Origin
by Solar07
Summary: Merlin found his father, then he died the next day. What happens when Balinor's relatives resurface? Can Merlin solve the mystery of his family before one relative destroys him forever? Contains some swearing and violence. Post S4.UNDER MAINTENENCE!
1. A Familiar Familiar

**Hey everyone! So yeah, I'm not dead, I might as well have been for long it's been since I've posted, but that's done now. Today is the start of a new streak, and I'm hoping to update at least weekly. Deal? Deal. So I've had this storyline in my head for a long time, and so I've decided to put it in writing. I know this is posted as a Merlin fic, and don't worry it is! It just doesn't have him in it yet, but he's coming up soon! **

**So, feel free to review. Constructive criticism is welcome as is praise or tips or whatever you want to put in your review. I would kind of like the support to know that people are actually reading this and not dissing it because I've been gone so long. That being said, here it is. My first fanfic in like nine years. ENJOY! XD :P**

Ava was scared.

She'd been scared before, like when her Mother told her that her favorite kitten wouldn't survive the night without warmth and food when the mother died. Or when lightning and thunder whirled outside at nighttime and the wind howled like a million packs of ethereal wolves through the trees. The night her father passed away two years ago.

Ever since that Bad Man came to her mother's castle a few months back and Mother had told them, "Run! Get away from here, Kaia, Ava. Go! Keep going!" everything had been different. Her older sister was different. Her clothes were different. Her home was different. Even her cat was different! Those past months had been the worst of her life, and she'd had to adapt quickly from being a well-loved princess to being a poor girl on the run. Every day was a test of her endurance. Every night in some scratchy bed or stupid tree was a test of her patience. Every meal she ever ate was a blessed gift, and she was sick and tired of it.

Yes. Oh yes. Ava had been scared and hurt and miserable many times before. But this was different. This time her sister wasn't here to protect her. She was completely alone.

That is, if the fact that she was being held captive by a bunch of 'Lowlifes', as her sister called them, who were always poking her and jeering at her wasn't true, she would be alone. Unfortunately, it was true, and Ava wished that she was alone, so at least she could whimper and sob with misery in peace.

One of the Lowlifes stepped towards her with some cuts of meat and a cup of water. Saying nothing, he bent down and set the items in front of her, leered at her for a moment, and walked away. Whimpering, Ava maneuvered her bonded limbs to get at the food. Clutching a strip of meat between her hands, she carefully tore a piece off with her teeth and swallowed. Screwing her face at the stale taste of old meat, she finished her first cut and devoured another. After the meat was All Done she grabbed the water, but before she could gulp it down she heard the oddest thing.

_"Don't drink it! Poison!" _the Voice said.

Ava froze, her lips a finger's width away from the cup, eyes wide so her face looked almost comical as they searched for the source of the Voice. She dropped the cup and spilled the contents on the ground when she heard it again.

_"Don't drink it, Ava!" _it said.

"Where are you?" she gasped.

_"Quiet you fool! Don't use your voice. Use your Other Voice!"_

"What do you mean my other voice?... Hello? Where are you? Hello?"

"Oi!" a Lowlife shouted. "You talking to your conscience over there sweetheart?"

"NO!" Ava squealed. The Lowlifes all started laughing and went back to their supper.

"What do you mean my other voice?" Ava whispered.

_"Meow!" _

"...What?"

Ava heard a rustling noise behind her, she turned around and to her delight she saw her cat, Nightwisp emerging from the surrounding greenery. As always her coat shone black as the night sky, and though she was covered in black fur, little stars seemed to wink at Ava whenever she laid eyes on her. Wisp was her very best friend. When the whole world seemed to be looking down on her, Little Wisp would look up, cuddle her and seem to say, _'Hey. I'm here for you. You can always count on me.' _She did count on Wisp more than anyone, excluding her sister perhaps. She'd raised Wisp from a newly born kitten, the poor cat's mother had died shortly after she was born. When Ava found her mewling outside the royal stables, she'd taken her in and fed her, washed her, she even let her (or more accurately _made _her) sleep with her in her bed. Ever since then the two were inseparable, after only knowing each other for a year they'd formed a friendship that is nearly impossible to come by between people, which is the beautiful thing about having pets.

Wisp looked about carefully, scanning the Lowlife Camp with a look of disdain so human-like it was unnerving. After affirming that the coast was clear, Wisp briskly walked to Ava, keeping to the shadows where she blended in so well. Ava tried to throw her arms around her, but failed miserably as her hands were still tied. Wisp made up for it by nuzzling her cheek and purring in the same way she did whenever Ava couldn't sleep at night when her sister was away 'borrowing' provisions.

"Oh Wisp, I missed you so much!" Ava whispered, she did her best to scratch Wisp behind the ears and Wisp purred some more. Ava could see that her best friend kept glancing at the Lowlifes though, keeping one eye on them and one on her. She really was a loyal, sweet little cat.

_"Ava, there isn't much time." _Ava stopped scratching Wisp abruptly, making her lash her tail in protest. Ava closed her eyes and concentrated, until she found what she thought might be her Other Voice. Using her mind to project her thoughts, she sent out a wavering call.

_"Who are you?" _

_"I am a friend." _the Voice answered.

Ava frowned. _"How can you be my friend if I don't who you are?" _she said.

_"Oh. I am much closer than you think." _the Voice said with a chuckle.

Ava heard Wisp purring again, and she opened her eyes to find Wisp staring at her intently with an extremely unsettling intelligence in her gaze. Feeling a tad bit unnerved, Ava asked the 'Voice' another question.

_"When you say 'close'... exactly how close do you mean?" _Ava had a feeling she already knew the answer to that question.

Wisp touched her wet kitty nose to Ava's. _"This close." _she said.

Ava could have gaped at her cat for a full hour, with only thought in her head. _'My cat talks!' _But Nightwisp had other plans.

_"Listen, these bast- bad men will only remain clueless for so long. You've got to free yourself and run like hel-crazy!" _

Ava didn't know whether to scold her cat for swearing, ask her if she was a hallucination, or just continue gaping at her. Gulping, Ava instead decided to ask her this.

_"What do you mean 'free myself'? I've tried, but I can't find anything to cut the ropes with! Besides, we're surrounded by Lowlifes! We'll never make it even if the ropes are off!"_

Wisp gave her something akin to a glare.

_"Don't be daft! You _know _what I'm talking about. Use your powers! Magic!" _The feline lashed her tail with what Ava thought might be anger, or anticipation, her azure eyes burned into Ava's, which were exactly the same shade.

_"Magic? Are y_ou _crazy? _You know _that whenever I use my powers Bad Things happen! Remember Mother's curtains?"_

Both friends winced. _That _had been quite an eventful day. A day that involved much shouting by Mother, much cleaning by servants, and _much _fire in Mother's bedroom. Those poor velvet curtains hadn't stood a chance.

_"I also know that I'm going help you control them. Just trust me, alright?"_

Ava had a million questions buzzing on the tip of her tongue, but right now wasn't the time. She knew that the most important thing right now was to get to safety, and Wisp knew it too.

_"You know I trust you." _Ava said with conviction. If cats could smile, she thought, that was exactly what Wisp was doing right now.

_"Okay. Now, listen closely. Do you feel your magic inside you? That burning under your skin?"_

Ava nodded.

_"All you have to do, is let a tiny fraction of it come to the surface. Like … how a balloon lets out a bit of it's air every day, but so gently and so quietly that you never notice it's happening until you see it's all deflated. Of course, you're not going to deflate, but do you get my meaning?" _

Ava nodded again and closed her eyes, searching for the fire that was her magic until she could grasp it with a gentle hold. She was afraid it might buck and run away from her, but it remained docile for now.

_"That's it, Ava. Keep going, but hurry! The Lowlifes are finishing up their food." _

Ava bit her lip, sweat formed on her brow as she attempted to cup a bit of the flame in her telepathic hands. The fire spit in rage but Ava continued to bring up just that tiny flicker...

_"Almost got it Ava. Good job. When it gets to the surface, I'll help you concentrate it on your bindings." _Wisp placed her front paws on the rope around her hands, kneading it gently with her claws. Ava felt a physical spark travel from the pit of her stomach to her eyes, her vision was enhanced for a half-a-second, she saw every hair on Wisp's snout, every ant crawling up and down the tree stump she was leaning on, every single blade of grass.

Then she felt her magic being directed by an outside force with precision she could never hope to manage on her own. Wisp drove her magic like a shepherd would drive a flock of sheep, and as Ava's vision returned to normal, she saw her bonds had been cut, and Wisp was purring triumphantly.

_"And that's how you do it!" _Wisp said.

_"You were puuuurrfection!" _Ava commented.

Wisp blinked at her. _"Heh, that's cute." _

"OI!"

_"Oh no!" _Ava and Wisp said in unison.

_"Jinx!"_

_"Not the time, Ava." _

"I think we've got ourselves a little _witch. _Don't we, gents?" The same Lowlife who'd given Ava the meat and Poison Water stood in the front of the other Lowlifes, hitting the palm of his hand with a Beating Stick and baring his teeth like a coyote who'd found a big fat rabbit. The Lowlifes all jeered and sniggered, most of them had ale on their breath and had a mad look in their eye, they were thirsting for blood and it looked to them as though they were about to get it.

"Do you think we should run?" Ava asked in her normal voice.

_"Um. YES!" _Wisp said.

Another Lowlife laughed. "Well, I don' know. But I sure don' feel like runnin'. I'd prefer to get this over and done with quick ... Maybe not _too _quick." This man, a grisly Lowlife with a poorly shaven chin who looked to be about the same age as Ava's Mother, gave Ava a strange look that she couldn't place, but it caused her to shiver and Wisp to hiss threateningly at him. The first Lowlife, who seemed to be the leader, surprised Ava by giving the man a look almost akin to disgust.

"I think that you should stay out of this _Gilbert._" He said, spitting out his name like it was an insult in and of itself. "After all, Arthur PenDragon shares the same views as his father when it comes to _magic._ I reckon he'll pay a very handsome price for this little _treasure._" With that, he lunged.

Ava sprung up from the ground and ran full-speed into the foliage. Her legs tottered beneath her as they had been practically numb from being sat on so long. But despite this she managed to speed through the trees while gracefully leaping over logs and nimbly ducking under branches that tried to snatch at her gray-blue cloak. She followed Wisp's tail as it weaved through the trees like a wisp, true to her namesake. If the Lowlifes were still chasing them she didn't hear them, for the blood was rushing too loudly in her ears to hear anything else. She figured that if Wisp was still running, that meant that her feline ears were still picking up signs of pursuit, so she kept running.

Ava didn't know how long she'd been chasing Wisp, all she knew was that her feet hurt like _Hell., _not that she _ever _used such profane and improper language. Wisp kept shooting words of encouragement at her, or sometimes she threw insults at her, anything to keep her going. Ava was truly grateful, really, but hadn't they run enough?

Wisp skidded to a halt in an open clearing. Stars shown from above, and a few stray clouds were dappled across the summer night sky. Ava breathed in, and breathed out, savoring the sweet scent of mid-summer nights and pine. A soft wind from the North that smelled like the calm before a thunderstorm caressed her cheek and blew back her hair. Ava loved Summer, it was the only time of the year where you didn't need to worry about freezing to death back home. She used to go riding with Mother and her sister on nights like this, just to get away from Matters of Court and spend time together. They would find small clearings just like this one and gaze at the stars, while Mother pointed out constellations like Aquila, Eridanus, Lupus, Delphinus, Orion, Pegasus, Phoenix, Monoceros, and Lepus. Thinking back on those times made Ava's bottom lip quiver, and she clamped them shut as hard as she could, she couldn't start crying _now! _Looking up, Ava thought she recognized at least one of the constellations, Monoceros, the Unicorn.

_"I think we're safe here." _Wisp said. She stood like a hunter, ears flicking back and forth, eyes scanning the trees for any signs of movement. Her fur rippled in the wind like ocean waves, catching the light of the stars and shimmering so Ava was entranced. How had she never seen this in Wisp before? Thinking back on it, Ava realized she _had _seen it, many times. Wisp could read her like a book whenever she pleased. She was very intelligent for a cat, and had even managed to smuggle an entire salmon from the palace kitchens on one occasion. Wisp had a way of being in the right place at the right time, _all _the time, something Ava had become a bit jealous of. When Ava was having a bad time, Wisp knew exactly what to do to lift her spirits, and she never failed to do so, _never._ Still, going from Very-Smart-And-Clever-Cat to I'm-Talking-And-Using-Magic-Cat in the blink of an eye was a rather large jump. The moment they had a chance to catch their breath, Ava was going to a long sit-down-chat with her cat.

Just when Ava was about to open her open her mouth to ask a question, Wisp screeched and shouted in her head. _"Ava, behind you!" _

Before there was time to react, Ava was tackled to the ground by someone big and burly. They turned her over while she squirmed and wriggled to her utmost ability, but the Attacker was too strong. The same Lowlife who was supposedly named Gilbert breathed in her face, and Ava thought she might pass out from the stench. She could hear Nightwisp yowling and hissing but she knew that her cat couldn't defend her on her own against a big man like this.

"Get off me you Lowlife!" Ava yelled, using her nails to try and scratch him, had she picked that up from Wisp?

Gilbert laughed. "Is that what you think I am? Really? I am truly hurt, you've cut me right to the core little sweetheart."

Ava shuddered, she did not like the look in his eyes at all. He was eying her like she was a delicacy from the palace kitchens, one that he wanted to tear to shreds and sink his teeth into. Wisp clearly didn't like it either. Because a split second later she was spitting and clawing every bit of the Lowlife's face she could get at.

"Gerroff me you little bastard!" He shrieked. Ava watched in horror as he grabbed Wisp's tail and yanked her off his head. Glowering at the flailing cat like she was a dead rat he'd accidentally stepped on, he flung her away and she landed with a _thump _somewhere Ava couldn't see. Trembling in terror, Ava glared at Gilbert, she felt her magic raging under her skin, just itching to lash out at the stupid ogre that dared mess with her cat, but she knew she couldn't let it, it had to stay under control.

"Now, sweetheart." he leered "Let's get this over with."

He stuck his hands over where her breasts would be when she grew older, and started squeezing her skin. Ava screamed in disgust and horror, what was he _doing? _Tears ran down her cheeks as he continued to do whatever he was doing to her. Whatever it was, Ava didn't like it, and neither did her magic. For once, Ava didn't even try to hold it back, she wanted this man to go away. She wanted him _gone. _

As his hands drifted to her hips, Ava's eyes flamed, and with a wild yell she sent the man flying through the air. His body crashed into a big oak tree and made a snapping sound that made Ava want to be sick. She watched from the ground as his limp body fell to the foot of the oak tree and lie still.

She stayed like that for a long time, just staring in shock at the man that had tried to violate her, now lying dead on the forest floor. She had done this. She'd killed a man. A horrible, disgusting man, but still. She was a good-for-nothing-murderer, no better than a monster.

She was a monster.

She sobbed into her cloak, hugging her knees and shaking terribly. It wasn't until she heard Wisp's panicked voice in her head and felt her nuzzling her cheek, that she looked up and wrapped her arms around her cat, thankfully alive. Wisp was asking her what happened, what had the man done to her, but Ava couldn't speak properly. All she seemed able to say was, "I killed 'im, I killed 'im, I killed 'im!" She wanted Wisp to deny it, say she hadn't killed him, something else picked him up and broke his neck. It wasn't Ava's fault. But Wisp only nodded in understanding and gave her a kitty hug. Ava thought she heard her mutter something along the lines of _"...stupid Lowlife deserved it anyway..." _but she was too shaken to care. All she wanted was to wake up from whatever nightmare she was having and find Kaia and Nightwisp looking down at her with concerned expressions on their faces. Kaia would ask her what she'd been dreaming about and Ava would tell her it was only a dream, Kaia would smile and prepare breakfast for them and Wisp would purr and cuddle with her until she felt better. Then they would eat breakfast and go to some town, laugh at some fat marketer selling food and steal some lunch while he spluttered at them.

"Well, I'll be!" a man's voice said, coming from the other side of the clearing away from the dead body. Wisp yowled in surprise and Ava let out a loud squeal. No more, there couldn't be more of them!

But when she looked at the man she realized he wasn't a Lowlife at all. He looked like a traveling peasant, like her, but much older, maybe even older than Mother. Despite his age he hardly had any gray at all amongst his black, raven hair. He had a beard that wasn't very long, but long enough to cover most of his throat. His clothes were shabby and worn, and his only provisions were in a small leather sack slung over his shoulder. His face was filled with concern and fear as he took in the scene before him.

"What in the name of the Tribunal happened here?" He exclaimed.

Ava looked at Wisp, shock forming on both their faces. "The...The Tribunal?" she asked. The Tribunal was a deity she herself worshiped back home, along with many of the people there. In this kingdom, Camelot she thought, most talked about a Holy Father and Jesus Christ that she'd never heard of before. She was also sure that magic was _banned _in Camelot, most of Albion in fact, and the Tribunal was strictly part of the Old Religion, what Ava knew as _The _Religion. There really wasn't any other belief system where she was from.

"Yeh the-th-the Tribunal the three g-goddesses that keep the-the earth in balance an' everything but that's not important!" He said waving his wands in the air. "Why are you out here all alone? Are your parents around here? Who is _that? _" He pointed at the corpse with his right hand which Ava noticed was malformed, the three fingers between his pinky and his thumb were all the same length. _Strange..._

"I...I don't know." Ava answered, she figured she should just play dumb, this stranger had something off about him and she didn't want to give away too much, particularly the fact that she'd _killed _the Lowlife Ogre Man with magic.

Stranger ran his hand down his face, obviously trying to get a grasp on the situation. "Alright. So-so you don't know. Errm...Are you from around here? Are your parents close by?"

Ava shook her head. She conceded she had to give Stranger something, he looked ready to have a panic attack. "I was kidnapped by... um... bandits. I think he was one them. I...I don't know how he died, I just found him like this." Ava winced inwardly at the poor lie, hopefully Stranger would buy it.

"Great Goddesses... Bandits. How did you escape?" He asked.

Ava looked at Wisp again, biting her lip. "I..." But Stranger held up a hand.

"No never-mind. You're obviously scared to death, here." He walked over to Ava and held out a hand, the left hand that wasn't deformed. "I'll help you find your family. Then you can get some rest and food to eat alright?" Stranger smiled, he was missing a tooth, but otherwise it was a golden smile that made Ava feel safe.

He transformed from a panicked peasant to an calm helper so fast that Ava should have been suspicious, but for some reason she wasn't. His smile was so reassuring, and something about him gave him an aura that made Ava want to give him a hug and cry onto his shoulder. Her magic was seething, trying to tell her something was up, but Ava ignored it. She'd let it have it's way and she ended up killing somebody. She wasn't about to let it happen again.

_"Ava, I don't trust him. Why didn't I hear him come into the clearing? He could have been watching us the whole time." _Wisp said.

_"I don't think so Wisp. He's being so nice. Why would he want to hurt me?" _

_"I'm just saying. And... somehow, he looks kind of familiar..."_

"Well?" Stranger said.

Ava took a deep breath, "Okay." and she took his hand. Immediately she felt the world around her begin to dim. Oh no, she was falling asleep!

"Wha-wa-wa-what's going on?" she said through a yawn.

"Don't worry little one. You won't feel a thing. I did the same thing for your brother all those years ago. Something about family just gives me a soft spot in that way, _niece._"

Ava didn't know what he talking about, but at being called _niece _she realized...

"You're the Bad Man!" she yelled, or more appropriately she tried to yell, but her voice was acting strangely, as though it had already fallen asleep.

"Bad Man? Oh, I wouldn't say that. A more accurate term would _Mad _Man, little Ava."

As the girl collapsed in his arms, he glared at the hissing black cat, then smiled.

"Don't worry little familiar, it'll be over in heartbeat, the next time she wakes she'll be in the Spirit World, and you'll pass away with her just as easily as if you were falling asleep."


	2. A Familiar memory

**YOYO! What up home dogs! . . . . . . . . Completely random outburst, that happens a lot with me... Anyways... This chapter took a really long time to write. And I'm not sure if I got everything down the way I wanted it. But I really hope you'll like it. I'm getting into Merlin's family history right in the beginning. Oh, and guess what? Merlin's in this chappy! He wasn't going to be originally, but I sat down started typing and he just came up on screen without my bidding. Almost like magic! **

**Lady Raylen- This story is set a bit after S4, BTW thanks for the review it lifted my self-esteem like by a million when I read it XD**

**Dirl15- Thanks a bunch also! Glad you like it. :D**

**Keep Reviewing Fellow Writers!**

**Chapter Two A Familiar Memory**

One day earlier...

Kaia was reminiscing.

In her mind's eye, she had her arms wrapped around her little sister's waist while riding her favorite black mare, Vinca. She and Ava were laughing, relishing the warm touch of the sun's caressing finger's on their faces and the invigorating scent of the turbulent breath of the wind. Vinca's hooves pounded the ground in quick succession, creating her own exciting wind racing through the spindly green stalks of grass that carpeted the meadow's earthen floor.

Just ahead, about two horse-lengths, their mother, Aneira was riding her own chestnut stallion with such speed that a passerby would only be able to glimpse a brown blur, no less spectral than a ghost, before she raced past them. Aneira, though getting quite along in years was still a beautiful woman. She had piercing green eyes just like Kaia, and her pearl skin seemed to glow like the moon in the sun's rays. Her raven locks tumbled down her back, it's natural wildness contained with braids and professionally placed bejeweled hair pins, atop her brow rested a silver tiara that complimented the Triple Moon Goddess who was the most widely-known deity in these parts. Silver is a sacred color because it is similar to the white light of the moon, which in turn was sacred because it was the Eye of the Goddess, and is also the portal through which all spirits pass through on the journey to the Other Side, whether that side be that of the Living, or the Dead.

The symbol of the Triple Moon Goddess was an arrangement of three moons in different stages of the cycle; on the far left, the waxing moon, in the middle, a full moon, and on the far right, the waning moon.

On this particular Spring day, the family was going out for a long Midday ride through the scenic routes of their land. Back then, Kaia's family was wealthy, not filthy rich of course, but well enough that they had a small castle and bushel of servants to attend to them.

Her father had been a lord over these lands on the farthest reaches of Gedref, a wide expanse of ground that stretched along about one hundred leagues of the Northern Sea. Gedref was one of the farthest of the five kingdoms away from Camelot, many people in Gedref were strongly against the Great Purge and the stereotypical holocaust it brought along with it. But out of fear of risking war with Camelot, Gedref kept firm laws in place that forbid using magic within the borders. However, unlike Camelot, if a user was caught performing magic by an authority, their punishment was extremely lenient unless the user was abusing his or her powers by harming others or some other crime. In that case, depending on the crime, they were either banished, imprisoned, or sent to death by the pyre, or whatever form of execution happened to be available at the time.

In most cases where the magic-user was caught, especially if it wasn't the first time being caught, they were banished to the Outer Lands of Albion, where Kaia lived. In the Outer Lands, the 'Old Religion' as folk in Albion called it, was practiced freely and without punishment, and Gedref never made any move to take the lands for itself, though it most definitely had the resources to do it. It was a widely known fact that Gedref kept the Outer Lands as a safe haven for magic folk, and the magic folk in particular were very grateful for the country's leader's wit to hide them in plain sight which, after all, was the very best place to hide.

Whenever Gedref had relations with Camelot, the Outer Lands were strictly left out of discussion or converse since they knew if King Uther found out that the Outer Lands were any more than uninhabitable wilderness he would take his whole army and march right through Gedref to get at what he called the 'demon spawn of the earth' who were really their family and friends.

Kaia's father, Lord Uriah was a former Druid, son of the Chieftain of a tribe that lived in Camelot. For Uriah, the Purge was devastating, killing his father and several of his family and friends by the pyre. Now Chieftain, Uriah fled with what remained of his tribe to Gedref and the Northern Sea. On the way, he met a woman named Aneira, a witch who was learned in the art of magic by the Priestesses of the Old Religion, where she had been schooled for a short while as a child. She was the first witch Uriah had met who also had a familiar, a kind of animal companion for people with magic. Aneira's familiar was a white and gray wolf named Cyril, but Uriah did not get the chance to know him very well, because he left within a few days. See, familiars are a strange breed. They only stay with their witch or wizard if they have need of them. Once their charge has mastered their power, they are obligated by nature to move on. To where, few know, but for Aneira and Uriah, that wasn't the last they saw of Cyril. Aneira too was on the run, but strangely not because of the Purge, but she would never divulge to Uriah the real reason until many years later, when tragedy forced her to come clean. Uriah and Aneira traveled together for a long while, each night they danced together and sang songs with the rest of the Tribe, and soon their relationship became intense.

One night, the same night the Tribe crossed the border into Gedref, Uriah did the most romantic, most insane thing any man could do, he asked her to marry him. Without hesitation, Aneira leaped into the sparkling river that would take her down a path she'd never thought could happen for her before. She said yes. The very next day they performed the ritual of hand-fasting, the Christian equivalent of marriage, but different on several levels.

The couple is first blessed by the Priestess presiding over the ceremony, in this case the Tribe's Healer, by way of the four elements. First she turned to the East and said, _"Blessed be the element of air. May you be blessed with communication, intellectual growth, and wisdom." _She turned to the South, _"Blessed be the element of fire. May you be blessed with harmony, vitality, creativity, and passion." _Then to the West, _"Blessed be the element of water. May you be blessed with friendship, intuition, caring, understanding, and love." _And finally, to the North, _"Blessed be the element of earth. May you be blessed with tenderness, happiness, compassion, and sensuality." _Finally, the Bride and Groom exchange their vows, light their candles, and answer the last question the Priestess asks of them with complete conviction. _"We do." _The middle candle is lit, but the two individual candles are not extinguished, a symbol of how the unity does not force either half of the couple to lose their own identity. When Aneira and Uriah's candle was lit, only they noticed the gray and white wolf watching with proud eyes from the shadows. Quietly, Cyril turned around, and disappeared once again from their lives, not to return to them for many years.

Not long after Aneira and Uriah were married, they found a group of Gedref nobles on a hunting trip. As joint leaders of the Druid Tribe, Aneira and Uriah decided to discuss peace talks with them, for they both knew if they were found out, which was inevitable, the Tribe would be imprisoned or killed as they would have been in Camelot, and they had come too far to be stopped now. The nobles who, as it turned out, happened to be King Geraint of Gedref and his knights, did not want to kill the Druids any more than the Druids wanted to be killed. This was because his late wife, Queen Enid, had been a practitioner of magic along with many members of her family before the Purge, and he was more than a little unwilling to kill members of his own family, not to mention that his daughter, three-year-old Mithian, might have inherited the gift of magic as well.

That night, they devised a plan to create a safe haven for all those with magic in Gedref, Uriah and Aneira would be Lord and Lady of the unpopulated Outer Lands, and King Geraint would do his utmost to safely send any magic user he discovered to them. The very next morning Geraint ordered seven of his knights to escort the Druids to the Outer Lands, and he returned to his castle to put all the arrangements for the haven in order.

Ever since that day twenty two years ago, the Outer Lands had become increasingly populated with witches and wizards of all kinds from Albion. Each and every one of them was welcomed by the Lord and Lady and given a place to live with a supply of food, clothes, and lodgings to start them off until they adjusted to their new living situation.

It was a wonderful place to grow up, what with the ocean waves lapping the side of the castle and sea birds calling out to each other at all hours of the day. The countless Druids and Wiccan Tribe dances and games that happened every night. Awe-inspiring performances of magical fireworks in summer and water dancing (magically controlling water and making it dance to music) in the spring. In the fall people would make the multicolor leaves dance in the wind with golden eyes, and they would also find the maple trees on the edge of the Outer Lands and gather all the sweet syrup they could carry. When the winter came, the green hills and the azure blue water were blanketed with a layer of frost. The children would play in the snow and have deadly snow ball fights by throwing the snow balls telepathically at the speed of a catapult, or they could go and skate on the frozen seas. It was great fun to tease any stray sea serpents that were caught in the frozen ice.

This was the happy life Kaia had lived for nineteen years, but nearly half of those years were tainted with loss.

The loss of her twin brother, Tristan, still left a gaping hole in her heart to this day. She remembered how her brother had been abducted, and she remembered how he was killed by their insane, power-hungry uncle. Zekeil was his name, but Kaia only learned about him after her father returned home after four days of searching with the bloody corpse of her brother in his arms. Their family was never the same as it had it been before that day, not even when Ava was born. Kaia perhaps felt the loss stronger than the rest, with Tristan gone, so went her other half and her best friend. She alone had seen how he was captured, for on that day, a Sunday afternoon, they were playing hookie from their duties in the Forest of Maat. Tristan was teasing her by doing magic on things like twigs, rocks, and leaves, causing them to swirl in a whirlpool around her head. She remembered laughing, snatching twigs out of the air and throwing them back at him in retaliation.

It was all fine until a dagger flew out of nowhere and impaled itself in a tree, mere inches from Tristan's face. The next minutes were a blur, she could remember running blindly with Tristan by her side, they did the best they could to help each other keep up, but soon they were overwhelmed. Their attacker cast a spell on them to make them tired and slow, the last thing Tristan did was save his sister's life, by pushing her off a cliff into the seething river below that would take her unconscious form back to the castle. Where her father's men would be waiting to carry her off to the Healer's chambers. But Kaia had gotten a glimpse of the killer's face just before falling into the waters, it was the face of a lion about to dig into a tasty stag it had just felled. He had black hair and a short, scruffy beard, he wore a black wizard's cloak made of leather with a black and red embroidered tunic, and his right hand was deformed. Scariest of all were his eyes, the left was all black, but the right had an red iris on the black, like he was possessed by some dark creature who hadn't taken him over completely.

After telling her parents this, Aneira was forced to tell her husband everything she knew about Zekeil. While Kaia pretended to be asleep, she heard everything her mother said to her father. His history was dark, darker than anyone else in their family. He had been the eldest of three siblings, Aneira was second eldest, and Balinor, the one who inherited the gift of Dragon Tongue, was youngest. When Zekeil was just coming of age, he was desperate to prove to his father that he was a worthy son. So when the day came to test whether he had the gift of Dragon Tongue, he faced the dragon Kilgharrah, but try as he might, he couldn't summon the words to command the beast, not even with his father's guidance. Furious, he went renegade for a while. When he returned, something about him was different, the way he talked and acted around his family, and how he abandoned his former friends, led Aneira and Balinor to suspect something was wrong with him. Their father would have none of it, despite Zekeil's running away, the idea of him betraying them by using dark magic was unthinkable, besides, Zekeil had never been able to use magic in any form before anyways.

Unfortunately, Aneira and Balinor had been correct. One night while Balinor was out drinking with his friends (he'd had an addiction back then) Zekeil laced his drink with poison. Luckily, Aneira had come by with the intention to drag Balinor back home, so she was there to save his life by uttering the counter-spell. However, this gave Zekeil the perfect opportunity to return home where his father would be waiting. Zekeil sneaked inside the house with a dagger, dipped in the same poison he gave Balinor. When his father rose from his chair to embrace him, Zekeil stabbed him in the back and, ignoring the feeble utterance of betrayal that were his father's last words, fled the house, never to return.

When Aneira and Balinor finally returned home, the sight that greeted them was so ghastly and horrifying that Balinor threw up a second time after drinking so much alcohol, and poison for that matter. After surmising what Zekeil had done, the siblings agreed to disown him from the family, and vowed also that should either come across him again, they would avenge their father by wiping his killer from the face of the earth. They parted after that, Aneira and her familiar, Cyril, went in search of Zekeil, but Balinor still felt that attachment that all brothers share, and could not bring himself to face him again. Aneira did not see Balinor ever again after that, but she _did _know that his drinking days were over.

After several long weeks of pursuit, Aneira finally caught up with Zekeil to find with great surprise that he now had magic of his own. In the confrontation that followed, Zekeil revealed the reason for murdering his father that night. He said that while he was away from home,

a 'god' in the form of a red serpent came to him. It whispered tantalizing things to him, telling him that with it's help, he could gain power beyond his wildest dreams. Zekeil was enthralled by the things it said, he had always had a yearning for power under his persona of a good son. He did not hesitate to give the serpent what it wanted, he knew perfectly well he was dealing with dark magic, but he didn't care, he wanted power. He cut his wrist open and allowed the serpent to drink his blood, and the serpent gained his identity. Once the blood was drunk, the serpent burrowed into his open skin and melted with Zekeil's mind, poisoning it with hatred for everything and erasing everything that made him Zekeil. When he came back, he'd been able to steal the life force out of dozens of plants and animals, perfecting his ability so he could take the gift of Dragon Tongue from his father.

He made sure that when his father died, his gift would pass to him only by killing Balinor, but when he still couldn't command a dragon after he killed his father, he realized there must be something wrong with his power. After many attempts of extracting energy from a human, he came to understand that he needed more than mere will to take another's magic. So he created a ritual with the serpent's help that used the sacred symbol of the Pentacle in a blasphemous and hateful way. He engraved the Pentacle deep into rock with magic, and tied a human being over top of it.. Then he cut their arms and legs and filled the pentacle with their blood. Then, under the light of the full moon at the Witching Hour (Midnight), Zekeil spoke the ancient language of magic and used the pentacle to direct the flow of magic being released by the victim's blood into him.

Aneira was repulsed by what she'd heard, though relieved that Zekeil thought Balinor was dead. She and Cyril tried to kill her brother for what he'd become. But his powers proved too much for them, having stolen the magic of so many people, and, fearing that her magic would be stolen, she ran for her life. A few years later, Zekeil found Aneira and Cyril hiding in the mountains of Escetia with others trying to escape from the Great Purge, forcing her to flee. That was how Aneira found Uriah and his tribe.

Aneira told Uriah that Zekeil was likely to try and steal Tristan's magic, when Uriah left, she begged to come with him, but Uriah told her that she needed to look after Kaia and handle the affairs of the country. Kaia eventually came to understand that this was not why her father wanted Aneira to stay behind at all, but because Aneira had kept the truth about her brother hidden from him for so many years, and a part of him felt betrayed.

He searched for three days and two nights, he scouted the whole Forest of Maat, combed through every cavern he knew of, sent spying hawks to look for Tristan from above, but he could not find his son. He probably never would have found him if Cyril, whom he had not seen in ten years, hadn't led him to where Tristan lay. Uriah said that Cyril told him that he'd done his best to stall Zekeil, but his efforts were useless against his power. Cyril stayed by his side all through the night, letting him mourn for his son. When morning came, it was only Cyril that kept him from sitting with Tristan till he starved to death. Uriah gave Cyril his thanks for trying to save his son, but while on the way back to the castle, Cyril vanished somewhere along the way.

Once he returned with Tristan's body, Kaia's attitude toward life utterly changed. The sight of seeing her brother lying dead (which was unsuccessfully prevented by her father's guards) had an almost unnatural effect on her. No more did she skip her fighting classes, no more did she throw mashed Gaia berries at the librarians , no more did she procrastinate on working on her studies. She pushed herself to be the best at everything, she trained with her swords until her arms would fall off, she stretched her muscles until they were jelly, she studied up on her history and writing skills until her brain burst. Her mother and father tried to intervene, saying that she was working herself too hard, but Kaia insisted that in order to be a good leader when she grew older, she must be absolutely perfect in whatever she did whenever she did it. But the real reason for her change of heart was because she still blamed herself in part for her brother's death. If she hadn't convinced him to skip their studies and go exploring in the forest he would still be alive. Now she would never go exploring with Tristan again, no playing games, no laughing at people in town when Tristan caused their hats to float above their heads, no sitting by the fire to listen to Mother and Father's stories of Albion before the Purge. Never again.

At least, that's what she thought. When Kaia was nearing her eleventh birthday, her mother gave her some exciting news. She was pregnant, and the Healers had surmised that the baby would be a girl. Kaia was so taken aback by her mother's words that she couldn't even muster a response. In her head, she was thinking, _A sister? A new baby sister? A little _sister_? _While her mother's belly got bigger and bigger over the course of the year, Kaia's sanity got worse and worse. She stayed awake many nights listening to the night crickets, eyes red with anxiety while she fretted over the baby. Would she look like Tristan? Would she play with her like Tristan used to? Would she be her best friend like Tristan used to? If she did, would Kaia forget Tristan? Would Tristan's old friends forget him? Would his parents forget him? Would she despise her sister for causing Tristan to be forgotten?

And so it went.

When the baby finally came on a Spring morning where the countryside was tinged with gold, Kaia and her father were waiting anxiously in the antechamber. They had been there for most of the night, wincing every time they heard Aneira cry out from her labor pains and jumping out of their skins when a midwife burst out of the room to grab a cloth or water or whatever else they happened to need at the time. Finally, a midwife by the name of Helen entered the room and told them it was time to see the baby girl. Feeling as though she would rather be caught by the knights of Camelot, Kaia entered the room.

What she saw made her head float like a butterfly in the wind. Her mother was holding the most gorgeous, adorable, lovable little baby the world has ever known in her arms. Walking through what she thought must have a dream, Kaia reached her arms out to the baby. Wordlessly, Mother allowed Kaia to embrace the child, though still holding her tiny, black haired head up with her forearm. While Kaia gazed at her little sister, she wondered how she could have possibly been dreading something so completely innocent and wonderful. Oh.

"She's not Tristan, right?"

Mother and Father exchanged glances, frowning. Kaia knew her words sounded dispassionate, but she wanted to be absolutely clear on this matter.

"What do you mean, child?" Mother asked.

"I mean,"Kaia swallowed, "she isn't Tristan. She won't replace him, or erase him." She smiled down at her sister. "But I do love her. Just as much as I love Tristan still."

Father put his hand on her shoulder, smiling. "We know Kaia. We still love Tristan, too. But there is always room in your heart to love one more person, you never have to erase anyone from it. You can only expand it." Kaia registered the fact that her father's eyes were leaking tears as he was reminded of Tristan, and maybe also because he finally saw a spark of what Kaia used to be for the first time before her brother died.

Kaia's mind flew to her uncle for a moment. He had killed Tristan, she knew there would never be any room for him in her heart. But now was not the time to be thinking of her uncle, now was the time to celebrate her sister, which reminded her.

"She needs a name." she stated obviously.

Mother gently took the sleeping child back into her arms, "Well, Kaia, since you're her older sister, what do you think would be a good name for her?"

Kaia thought hard, sifting through different names in her mind's eye, looking at her sister's face, she found the perfect one.

"Avlynn. Her name should be Avlynn."

Avlynn's eyes opened, and to everyone's surprise, they flared gold, and then faded to a pretty shade of blue. She cracked a smile, showing her toothless gums and adorable dimples, and she giggled at being called by her name for the first time.

After recovering from the shock, Father laughed and said, "Well, I think that settles it." He knelt down next to the bed so he could be eye-level with his baby girl, giving her his index finger to hold, he said, "Welcome to the world, Avlynn." and he shook her hand.

Kaia gasped at the sharp rap on the door. She looked around, wondering where she was, then she remembered, Camelot. She was here to compete for a tournament in Camelot. And, Oh Goddess, she had been sleeping!

Another rap on the door.

"Alright, alright, I'm coming! Just wait for a second would you?" She leaped out of bed, fully clothed already, and did a quick check up around the room to make sure there was nothing in sight that could incriminate her. Finding nothing, she was about to open the door when she saw herself in the mirror, and she fought to hold back a cry of distress. Her hair was a mess! It was a classic bedhead; some of her black hair was still loosely bound in the tight bun in the back of her head, but the rest was a tangled mess so it looked like a robin had decided to make a nest out of her head. In an effort to maintain her dignity, she finger combed it until it looked vaguely presentable. As she did, she looked herself up and down to ensure that nothing else was as ruined as her hair. Her black feather mask was only slightly askew, so more of her nose was showing than usual along with part of her eyebrow. Her black leather armor looked perfectly fine though, (How did she manage to fall asleep wearing that?) and the hilts of her two swords protruded from behind her shoulders, all straps in place.

Adjusting her mask, she finally opened the door.

Standing there was a tall, dark haired young man with blue eyes startlingly similar to Ava's. He was wearing a brown, fitted jacket that suited his stature, so that even though he was certainly no knight, he had an air of that regal bearing about him. All this was thrown off however, by his goofy smile and prominent ears, especially by the blue scarf around his neck and the way he swung his arms in agitation by his sides.

"And who might you be?" she asked when he failed to say anything. Perhaps he was thrown off by her strange clothing.

"Ah, you're a..." he started.

"A what?" she asked, glaring at him. He shook his head.

"Never-mind... Erm, I'm Merlin." He said offering his hand, when Kaia refused to shake it he put it down awkwardly. "It's, erm... Did you start that fight downstairs?" he said bluntly.

"What's it to you?" Kaia said with a mixture of bossiness and confusion.

Merlin smiled a little bit, "Well, if you did, I supposed you would be competing in the tournament tomorrow, correct?" Kaia nodded. "Then I should tell you, the king wishes to see you and all the other competitors in the arena just after three 'o' clock today."

"I will be there." she said.

"Alright, I'll see you then. Oh!" He turned back around. "I never did get your name."

"So?" Kaia said in a petulant manner.

"Well, usually when people meet each other, they give them their names. I gave you mine, so it's only fair that you give me yours."

_He's either very stupid, or very brave for talking to me like that. _Kaia thought, _Although, strangely endearing... Agh. It's the eyes, his eyes are way too much like Ava's. _

"I'm not most people, Merlin." He waited, finally Kaia gave in to his Ava-like-gaze, and sighed. "Alright, fine then. It's... Raven." At least, it was her cover name until she won the tournament and got out of Camelot.

Smiling a little too triumphantly for Kaia's liking, Merlin said, "I should tell you, Raven, that I think you have a fair chance of winning, judging from what I saw downstairs." Not waiting for a reply, Merlin hurried down the hallway, down the steps and back into the tavern. Kaia waited until she heard the door of The Rising Sun open and close and she withdrew back into her room.

It was a very _dusty _place. There wasn't an inch of the room that wasn't covered in the stuff, save for herself and her own things. As far as tavern inns go, Kaia was expecting the famous Rising Sun to be a little more accommodating.

"Now, what time is it?" she said vacantly, looking out the window. In reality, the time was the last thing on her mind. She was still wondering about Merlin. She couldn't shake the feeling that she'd met him somewhere before, but that was impossible. From looking at him walk down the street of the Lower Town toward the citadel, she could tell that Merlin was very familiar with living in Camelot. People waved to him as he passed by, and he waved back, sometimes exchanging words with them and laughing at some joke Kaia couldn't hear. Kaia guessed he must be some sort of higher standing person here, judging by his clothes, but the way he was treated by the townspeople suggested otherwise. Not to mention the fact that he'd personally come to the tavern to deliver a message from the king to the competitors. That was a servant's job! No noble would put himself at the risk of being punched in the gut and robbed by some thug, although most nobles said that it was because it was below their status to do such 'mundane' tasks.

The clanging sound of the tower bells signifying twelve 'o' clock jarred her from her thoughts, she would need to solve the mystery of Merlin later. Right now, she needed to train herself up for the tournament. It had been a long time since she was able to fight in a royal training ground, if under different circumstances, she would probably be looking forward to this. But for her, the stakes were too high to waste time having fun. Everyone else was competing for gold, but Kaia was fighting for something way more valuable than that. Her sister's life depended on the thousand gold pieces of prize money, all because of a bunch of stupid lowlife bandits.

When Kaia returned from a night of thieving food and money from merchants, she found her temporary camp had been raided. Worst of all, the bandits had her sister, tied and gagged, and were holding a knife to her throat. Somehow, they had found out that she was the one who'd robbed them the week before, and somehow, they'd found her camp. They knew exactly how to get Kaia to do what they wanted. Their demands were simple, go to Camelot, win the tournament, and bring back the prize money. If she didn't, they would kill her sister.

It was Ava's tear-streaked cheeks that kept her going. No matter what, she had to keep her safe, that's what she promised her mother the last day she'd seen her.

It was a chilly autumn morning in the Outer Lands. A perfectly normal day with normal happenings. That was, until the attack started.

First came the fires. Giant balls of flame hurtling at the castle burned through the solid rock and incinerated rooms. The flames spread through the castle like wildfire, destroying tapestries and the histories they contained, reducing books and research to ash. It was sheer luck that almost everyone in the castle knew a bit of magic so they could protect themselves from the heat, and those who didn't were taken in by their friends. Everyone was thinking the same thing. _Why are we under attack?_

It couldn't be Gedref, or any of the five kingdoms for that matter, because they didn't allow magic, much less use it in battle. But it couldn't be a magic user, it was just bizarre, no one in their right mind would destroy a safe haven for their own kind, and no one could possibly have that much power at their disposal to launch such an assault. Only Aneira fathomed what was going on. She had seen this kind of power before, in her brother Zekeil. She told Kaia and Ava to get out, and run as far away from that place as possible. She gave Kaia her father's swords (Kaia's grandfather), which she had kept hidden for all these years. She told Kaia that she could use them to deflect a small magical attack if she used them right, and that she had to look after Ava. Don't worry about her, don't worry about the castle, just keep Ava safe from Zekeil.

It was the hardest thing Kaia had ever done in her life, she wanted to ask her mother so many questions, she wanted to stay and protect her from the man who killed her brother, but she didn't. She ran, practically carrying Ava along with her, and left everything she had ever known behind.

She told Ava that Mother was still alive, that she was on the run from Zekeil just like they were, that she would find them soon. But in her heart, she knew her mother was dead, Zekeil would have let the others live, she hoped, but Mother didn't stand a chance. He would have ordered her to tell him where her daughters had gone, but Mother would not give in, finally, he would kill her just like he did Tristan.

Ava was all Kaia had left. And if those bandits thought that she was going to let them take her from her, they had another thing coming. Oh, she would win this damn tournament, and she would give them the money. But if they didn't hold up their end of the bargain, if Ava had so much as a paper cut when she came back for her, Kaia would make sure those bandits would have nightmares about her for the rest of their miserable lives.


	3. A Familiar Face

**I want to be absolutely clear on this. That review on my story signed by my name, was not me. Like I said, I asked my friend to read my story, but we both forgot to sign me out before she reviewed it. AND she forgot to sign under a different name, so there you have it. The next review by me WAS me, trying desperately to salvage my reputation, and I really hope that you will understand. Do you? Please? Yes, Thank You! **

**Alright, so I've been slacking a bit. What with my birthday and my mom working overnights, projects at school, and reading up on Wicca for the story, it's been a real crazy week! So I'm trying my best to make this story a good one. **

**Anyways, about this chapter. I like to think each one is better than the last, and I've got high hopes for this so far. But, of course, your opinion as the reader is most important, I want to know what you think! **

**Chapter Two **

**A Familiar Face**

Merlin was thinking.

He wasn't thinking about his new position as Royal Advisor, or the fact that he no longer lived with Gaius, but in Agravaine's old chambers (utterly redecorated, it was now completely unsociable with the traitorous uncle). He wasn't thinking about how odd he felt walking around in clothes that not only didn't itch, but fit him perfectly (Gwen, _Queen Guinevere _had something to do with it, Merlin suspected). He wasn't even thinking about what he was going to do if Arthur the Prat King didn't get him a servant other than George soon, (an unfair arrangement after Merlin mentioned Arthur would need a new servant, he stuck Merlin with George so that he wouldn't have to deal with him) if that dull servant made one more joke about _brass _he was going to explode in a flaming ball of fire!

No, he wasn't thinking about any of those those things. Merlin was thinking about the eccentric woman he'd just met at the tavern inn.

Originally, Merlin had gone to The Rising Sun to 'spy' on Arthur's competition. He hadn't been ordered to, in fact, with his new status, he wasn't even _supposed _to. What could he say? Old habits die hard. You could never be sure how and when someone was going to try and kill the king. And if he was found out or questioned by someone, he could just say he was there to tell the competitors about the meeting today, although he wasn't really supposed to do that either...

Upon entering the tavern, however, all thoughts of spying were pushed from his mind.

It was absolute chaos. Everyone in the room was trying to punch the life out of one another. Glasses of ale went flying through the room, dousing everyone in range with alcohol and breaking into a million tiny pieces as they hit the walls. One man wearing an outfit that looked like it belonged to a Southron was beating a man twice his size with a stool, another was running about the room slapping people at random and darting away like a dragonfly. The owner of the place appeared to be in a state of shock, for he was still holding a cleaning rag in his left hand and a dirty glass in the other, his mouth hung open as he watched the Southron get his head pummeled with a wine bottle by the bear-man he'd been fighting.

Once Merlin recovered from the shock, he warily made his way through the battlefield of drunken men. After narrowly avoiding being hit with a wine bottle and dodging the slapping man, he leaned against the bar and tried to gain the attention of the owner. When he ignored his greeting, Merlin snapped his fingers in front of his face.

"Hello? You there?" he nearly had to shout over the ruckus. The bartender glared at him. So Merlin took that as a 'yes'.

"What happened here? How did the fight start, an unlucky gamble, too much ale?"

The bartender glared at him some more, and shook his head. "It be no ale, sir_._ Tha' big fight started because one of the competitors, well I assume it's a competitor, decided to take a whack at tha' fellow over there." he pointed to the man dressed like a Southron.

"Why?" Merlin asked.

The bartender snorted. "Hell if I know. But the girl's got some skill. You see those two over there?" He nodded at two unconscious men slumped over their chairs. "She took 'em both out with one blow, and gave that fellow a broken nose." He pointed at the slapping man, who Merlin assumed was extremely drunk, and he saw that he did indeed have a broken nose, it was the size of a tomato!

He swallowed. "Did you say _she?_"

"I did." He leaned in close, "And trust me, Merlin," Merlin seemed to be on a first name basis with everyone now, everyone wanted to be friends with the king's Royal Advisor. "I would not underestimate her. I've seen what she can do. You see, there's rumors going about the town about a woman thief, dressed in black. Calls herself The Raven. Some say she can clear buildings with a single bound, and defeat twenty-odd men with one stroke of her blades. I didn't believe it at first, but after this," he gestured to the room, where the fight had finally ceased, albeit because everyone was unconscious.

"I don't know what to think anymore."

Merlin did his best not to look frightened. But the truth was, he was very frightened, not that Arthur needed to know that. All he needed to know was that there was a dangerous woman, who happened to be a thief, that might _possibly_ be a worthy threat to the king. Of course, Arthur would stop listening at the word 'woman', and he'd call Merlin a girl and tell him that he needed to stop being such a coward. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to tell Arthur...

"Where is she now?" Merlin asked.

The bartender looked flabbergasted. "You're not thinkin' of talking to 'er are you?" he laughed. Merlin's face remained serious. "All right, all right, she's upstairs, in the first room on the right."

"Thanks." He said, starting up the stairs.

"Hey Merlin!" the bartender shouted. "I should tell you, good luck getting out alive!"

_"Thanks!"_

What was he doing?

Investigating, snooping, being paranoid, Merlin answered himself. Was he really so stressed with his new job that he was talking to himself, now? With his his new title, Merlin's workload lessened by an insanely great amount. Instead of waking up in the wee hours of the morning to take care of the King, Merlin was being taken care of himself, only needing to get out of bed after the sun was high in the sky. Instead of mucking out stables, cleaning Arthur's room, getting Arthur's food, cleaning Arthur's boots, polishing Arthur's armor, brushing Arthur's horses, feeding Arthur's dogs, washing Arthur's clothes, and dodging objects that Arthur threw at him, he was doing... none of those things. The only _real _work he ever did was _paper_work. Pile upon pile upon pile of paperwork, papers about matters of state, papers about bandit sightings, papers about successful harvests, papers about everything you could possibly think of. In fact, Merlin had to sort through so many papers that he wondered if Arthur hadn't dumped some of his workload off on him, it wouldn't be surprising seeing as it wasn't the first time Arthur had done something like that.

When Merlin wasn't doing paperwork, he used his newly found free time to visit his friends, practice magic (in secret, as always), and sometimes he even did chores for Gaius. He missed staying with his mentor dearly, so he took every opportunity he had to spend time with him. Ever since the retaking of Camelot (the _second _retaking of Camelot) Gaius had become more frail and elderly than Merlin had ever seen him, and to be honest, it scared him. Gaius had no energy to spare for gathering herbs in the forest, only being able to mix potions and sometimes deliver remedies, but he couldn't even do those deliveries if it required much stair climbing. A small, treacherous voice would whisper in Merlin's ear, that Gaius' time may be coming to an end, but he wouldn't accept that, living apart from Gaius was bad enough, but for Gaius to _die? _No, absolutely not. If Merlin had to use magic to keep Gaius alive, then he would do it, he was the father he never had, and he didn't feel ready to give that up.

All too soon, Merlin found himself standing at the first door on the right, where this 'Raven' thief was staying. He lifted his hand to knock on the door, face reddening in embarrassment when he saw it was shaking slightly, it was a good job that Arthur wasn't here to see this, a good job indeed.

_Knock. Knock. _

Merlin waited, a part of him was hoping that she wasn't going to come to the door, but the other, bigger portion of him knew that he should see who this person really was, her agenda, and most importantly, whether or not she had anything against Camelot. He knocked on the door again.

"Alright, alright, I'm coming! Just wait for a second, would you?" a disgruntled female voice shouted from the other side of the door. Merlin figured she was checking her appearance or some other feminine nonsense, women were always so _particular _about their looks, even thieves.

Finally, the woman opened the door, and Merlin had to check himself to ensure he wasn't gaping at her.

He should have figured from what the bartender said that she would be... different, as far as women go, but this was a first. He couldn't decide which aspect of her appearance he found most strange. She was clothed all in black, black boots, black trousers, black tunic, black armor, she even had a black mask that covered her cheekbones. Her hair (also black) was tied back behind her head so tightly Merlin thought it might hurt, though there were a few stray strands. Two sword hilts, embroidered with golden thread stood up from behind her shoulders.

"And who might you be?" the woman asked.

"Ah, you're uh..." Merlin said.

"A what?" She asked defensively, her green eyes glared at him from her behind her mask. She was probably thinking he was surprised at her being a woman. What he was actually going to say, was 'You're the strangest person I've ever seen.' but she might take that the wrong way as well.

"Never-mind... Erm, I'm Merlin." He said offering his hand, the woman simply looked at it, so he bashfully lowered it. "It's, erm." Oh Gods, he was panicking. "Did you start the fight downstairs?" He mentally hit himself in the face. Was he _stupid?_Now she was going to think he was prying, which he was. Oh, he was going to get punched now wasn't he?

"What's it to you?" she said haughtily, crossing her arms.

_Oh, I'm just snooping. Getting into your private business because I'm too damn curious for my own good, _Merlin thought.

Thinking fast, he thought about his cover story. He smiled. "Well, if you did, I suppose you will be competing in the tournament tomorrow, correct?" He thought he sounded much too formal, but the woman didn't seem to find anything strange about his behavior. She nodded.

"Then I should tell you, the king wishes to see you and all the other competitors in the arena just after three 'o' clock today."he rushed.

"I'll be there." the woman stated. Merlin considered her for a second. His first initial reaction at her appearance was that she was extremely scary, but looking at her a second time, he noticed something vaguely familiar about her. Even though he couldn't actually see her whole face, he was embroiled in the idea that he had seen her somewhere before, but that was impossible. He would've remembered someone like her for sure.

"All right. I'll see you then." He said , turning back around, then, realizing he hadn't gotten any good snooping done, he spun on his heel.

"Oh, I never did get your name." he said.

"So?"

Merlin stared at her, wondering whether he should just turn tail and flee or stand his ground. Speaking carefully, he said, "Well, usually when people meet each other, they give them their names. I gave you mine, so it's only fair that you give me yours." he held his breath, waiting for the punch in the gut he knew was coming...

"I'm not most people, Merlin." the woman stated. _'Well, obviously!' _Merlin thought, but he didn't dare say so out loud. Instead, he was unconsciously giving her the same look he sometimes used with his mother, or Gwen, when he wanted something especially important. The woman stared at him, eyes narrowed for several moments.

"All right, fine then. It's... Raven." she answered finally.

Merlin kept his face emotionless, though he might have looked suspiciously victorious. So now he knew that this _was _the thief everyone was talking about, but if so, why give her real name? Or was it a cover? Then, why use the name everyone knows you by if you're trying to hide?

With these questions swirling about his mind, Merlin thought of one last thing to say.

"I should tell you, Raven, that I think you have a fair chance of winning, judging from what I saw downstairs." then he turned on his heel, and practically ran to the lower floor. He'd said that last comment because he felt he should try and keep on her good side, whatever that was. All he knew was that he did not want to get a punch in the face. Although, another part of him was mysteriously drawn to the woman, _Raven. _He couldn't fathom why, but he felt a soft spot for her, and he was almost certain she had the same for him. Overall, the encounter, though not very informative on a scale of gathered facts, but on a scale of good instincts, left Merlin doubting that Raven had any intention of harming the king.

Then there was the matter of her 'cover' name. Merlin thought hard as he bumped into various commoners in the Lower Town, walking towards the citadel. Her cover name was about as good as his cover for being at the tavern, that is, if she was trying to hide the fact that she was a thief. Perhaps she was hiding something else, but what could be more incriminating than being a thief? Fleetingly, he thought of his own agenda, a magic user in disguise, a Royal Advisor to the king of Camelot, a double card, a mole with scales living among serpents. He was an enemy of Camelot just for being born, yet he stood and fought for the very people that prosecuted him, in the hope that someday his actions would bring peace between his kind and Arthur's. He wondered sometimes if his efforts were as vain as the mole with scales. He may live, and befriend serpents while in disguise, but once he shed his skin the serpents would devour him without a second thought, they were enemies by nature, and one oddball in a group of one million couldn't change that.

_Don't be a pessimist. _The voice in his head that shouldn't be there said to him.

_Oh, shut up. _He replied.

"Hey, Merlin!"

Merlin looked up, the matter of Raven would need to wait apparently. As an extremely drunken knight with wavy locks approached him on unsteady feet.

"Hello, Gwaine. Been to the tavern recently?" He looked the knight up and down. "Did you miss the brawl?" he asked. The knight was in perfect condition aside from the fact he was drunk.

"What brawl? I'm not drunk! _Hic. _I haven't been to the tavern in nearly twenty two hours. The princess told me I needed to stay away from that place for a while, remember?" Gwaine said, hiccuping.

Merlin's brow furrowed. "So what? Have you been drinking from your private supply?"

"No idea what you're talking about. _Hic._" He took Merlin's arm and led him down the road, the two looked very awkward to the bemused passerby, what with the knight swaying and Merlin trying hard not to laugh.

"Would you mind telling me where you're taking me?" Merlin asked when Gwaine failed to give an explanation.

"What? Oh yeah! _Hic. _I'm taking you to the training grounds."

"...Why?" Merlin had been hoping to get some sleep before the meeting today.

"Princess wants you to spy on the local competition. Get a feel for what he'll be up against."

"Well, isn't that special?" Merlin muttered, disgruntled by the irony. Spying was exactly what he'd been doing moments before, but he couldn't really explain that to a drunken knight who was forcefully leading him (in the wrong direction) to the training grounds.

After Merlin gently took control (that is to say, yanked Gwaine's arm several times in the appropriate direction) the pair eventually made it to the training grounds.

While they made their way around the place, Merlin observed the competitors. They were very much the same look as the competition from the first time the tournament was held. Big, burly men that possessed many mean weapons like giant spiked maces, huge hammers, poison blades, the usual. Merlin remembered how distraught he'd been last time he saw all of these things. He was still distraught, a little, a lot. Alright, he was positively livid about it. The damn tournament had no rules! If a competitor so desired he could bring an entire catapult into the arena and no one could say a thing about it! It was ridiculous! And the prize money? One thousand gold pieces! Thugs, thieves, bandits, and outlaws from all over the land would be showing up to compete, and they would be playing dirty, after all, there were no rules to stop them.

But, luckily, aside from Raven, Merlin hadn't spotted anyone that could pose a real threat to Arthur. Speaking of Arthur, where was he? He should be here training himself up like the others... Ah, there he is.

"Working off that extra padding, sire?" Merlin greeted his friend. Arthur was pummeling a training dummy with the newly dubbed _Excalibur. _A strange name in Merlin's opinion, but he didn't dare argue with it. At the time, Arthur had the same look on his face that Merlin did when he made new discoveries in his magic, as if he were naming the sword on some sort of instinct deep within himself. The sword had been named a few hours after the retaking of Camelot, and it was a moment that Merlin was doubtful to ever forget.

"You, Merlin, should be a little more respectful to your king. Lest you wish to die a very painful death." Arthur replied, still very much concentrated on slicing the wooden dummy to ribbons.

"I doubt that, sire, you'd miss me too much." Merlin grinned.

"Don't be so sure." Arthur paused in his hell-bent attempt to vanquish his wooden foe, and turned to his Advisor. "By the way. Seen anything so far? Any... opponents I need to worry about?" He said this in a manner that suggested he doubted very much that _any _opponent would worry him in the slightest.

"Well, not really..." Merlin said. He wasn't in the mood to be called a worrywart or a girl, so he was rather reluctant to inform Arthur about 'Raven'. Though he reasoned that his duty as Advisor and protector of the king gave him the responsibility to tell him about _any _possible dangers.

He took a deep breath. "Well, there is one. It's a... erm..."

"Come on then. Out with it, Merlin." Arthur said, annoyed.

"It's a... a woman." Merlin plowed on, ignoring the incredulous look Arthur gave him. "She's not _that _much of a threat. I mean, she's got some talent. But I doubt-"

"What's that, Merlin?"

Merlin contained a yelp and spun around to find, to his horror, Raven looking at him with a mocking expression of hurt on her face.

"Go on, what were you going to tell the king? _Royal Advisor?" _Raven stepped toward him, hands on her hips, looking like she was ready to punch the life out of anybody that got in her way, particularly Merlin.

He felt his cheeks ignite with embarrassment. "I was, erm. I mean, it's... erm."

"You know this woman, Merlin?" Arthur asked, trying and failing spectacularly to hide his amusement at Merlin's discomfort.

"Not very well, no." Raven said. "We just met a moment ago at the tavern inn. Isn't that right, Merlin?"

"What were you doing at the tavern?" Arthur said. Merlin struggled to find words, but his brain was refusing to cooperate.

"He was telling me about the meeting today. Three 'o' clock, correct?" She said. "Anyways, I find it hurtful that you doubt my talents as a fighter, Merlin. Only a moment ago you were saying that I had the best chance of winning the tournament."

Merlin laughed nervously, red as a tomato under the gaze of his king, though at present he found himself more worried about what Raven was thinking of him for some reason. "That was, uh... Just me giving him some self-confidence. You know, some moral support." He was going to be laden with so much paperwork for that comment he would drown in the stuff by the end of the week, but at least he wouldn't be given a black eye and a broken nose.

Arthur gave him a painful clap on the shoulder and laughed. "What Merlin means to say, is that the king of Camelot doesn't need _any _moral support. And the fact is, I would rather do without. More importantly, I, as the most polished fighter in the land, will do brilliantly in the tournament tomorrow, regardless of what his cowardly Royal Advisor seems to think."

Throughout the king's proclamation, Merlin put a false grin on his face. Arthur was _quite _the charmer, wasn't he?

"Is that so?" Raven said, now looking directly at Arthur. "Well, then, you wouldn't have any qualms if I said I wanted a duel, would you? We could both use the practice. Unless, of course, you're too, erm... _scared _to fight a lady?"

A small crowd of knights and other competitors were beginning to gather round at this statement. Merlin could see some of the men from the tavern brawl among them, and he also spotted Gwaine making bets with some of them. He wondered if he was betting on Raven or Arthur...

Meanwhile, the king's arrogance had faltered. No doubt he'd never encountered a woman quite this before, and more to the point he couldn't decline her challenge without looking cowardly.

"All right." He said after a moment consideration, pushing Merlin off to the side. "Why don't we make it a bit more interesting, shall we?"

They were circling each other now, and the crowd around them had multiplied by three, bets could be heard on the outcome, most of them were on Arthur, but some of the tavern brawlers were betting on Raven.

"Let's!" Raven said. "One hundred gold pieces to the winner!" Murmurings of shock spread throughout the crowd, this woman was obviously very confident if she was willing to risk that sum!

"Fifty." Arthur said.

"Seventy."

"Done." They shook hands, and the duel began.

Raven reacted fast, drawing her swords in a fluid motion, quick as a bolt of lightening strikes the countryside. Arthur could only raise Excalibur to block part of the blow before she attacked. It sent him staggering backward, the ringing of metal hitting metal reverberating across the crowd. In the split second before Raven struck again, Merlin caught a glimpse of the blades. They were made of black metal, and the way they glinted harshly in the sunlight sent shivers up his spine. There was something off about those blades, but he didn't get any time to decipher what before they whirled at Arthur like a twister.

By now, Arthur had found his bearings, and was more prepared for the second attack. He swept his sword in an upward stroke and caught one of Raven's blades, using his brute strength and Raven's surprise, he knocked it out of her hand. Now she was only fighting with one weapon, same as Arthur. She looked more annoyed than she was worried though, and she continued to attack with all the vigor and skill she had begun with. Merlin could see Arthur was struggling, he had no experience fighting with this sort of foe, and it was obvious he was holding back because he felt it was dishonorable to attack a woman with full force.

He swung Excalibur again, forcing Raven to duck under the blade. But her next move came completely unexpected. She crouched on the ground for a second, and with a flash of an evil grin, she did a back-flip, with all the grace and fluidity of a cat. Her feet caught Arthur on the chin, and he cried out and staggered backward for a second time, eyes wide in shock, still trying to understand what just happened. No one fought like that! Not unless they were from the circus or something!

Raven wasted no time at all. With a yell of triumph she lunged forward, she sliced Arthur's cheek and kicked him in the gut, sending him sprawling on the ground. In no time at all Raven regained her other blade and was holding both of them at Arthur's throat. For a split second, Merlin worried that he had been wrong about her intentions, she was in a perfect position to kill Arthur, and he was defenseless. His worries were smothered, again, as Raven put away the blades back in their respective sheaths.

"A battle well-fought, sire." She said, offering a hand. The training grounds were deathly silent, everyone was waiting to see the king's reaction. Would he deny her the victory, would he have her arrested? Of course, anyone but those who knew the king would think he would throw her in the stocks, but Merlin knew exactly what Arthur was going to do.

The king gave her a reluctant smile, trying hard to hide the humiliation he was feeling, and took her hand.

"I should say the same myself, my lady." He answered with all the qualities of a gentleman. All the arrogance he'd displayed before the fight was wiped out, replaced with a trace of respect and definitely some humility. It was a wonder how much one duel could change the attitude of a nobleman for the better (or the worst) for the rest of the day. Merlin suspected that as soon as Raven left he was going to feel the repercussions of Arthur's loss.

"I shall have your money delivered to you by the end of the day. I'm sure _Merlin,_" Ah, there was the repercussion already... "will be happy to stop by and give it to you. Seeing as how he already knows where you're staying."

"I'll be looking forward." Raven answered. They exchanged some more words but they were lost to Merlin, as the crowd began to disperse and talk excitedly about what had just occurred. Gwaine, grinning like a madman, walked up to him, jingling a pouch of what Merlin assumed to be a large sum of money.

"Ah, Merlin. Today, I am the happiest man in the world! Look!" he waved the bag in front of Merlin's face. "Fifty silver! _Fifty!_"

"Yeah, that's great, Gwaine." Merlin said distractedly, still eying Raven and Arthur.

Following Merlin's gaze, Gwaine said, "Yeah... She's gorgeous isn't she? A real beauty."

Frowning, Merlin said, "Oh, I don't know. It's kind of hard to tell with that mask on, isn't it?"

Gwaine laughed. "Oh, Merlin, you gentleman, you. I wasn't talking about her face."

That comment made Merlin frown even more. Strangely, Gwaine talking about Raven like that made him feel uncomfortably sour. He wasn't jealous or anything, he didn't feel about Raven in that way at all, it was more of a protective instinct.

"You know, she kind of looks like you, Merlin."

Merlin gave Gwaine a weird look, "What do you mean by that?" face turning red.

"Oh, you know, you've got the same hair color... the slim body structure..."

In order to humor a drunken man, Merlin checked himself. Nope, no breasts.

"Gwaine, I think you've had quite enough to drink, why don't you head inside and take a nice long nap to clear that head of yours?"

"I'm serious! You have to admit you two have got a lot in common. I mean, other than that girl, I've only ever seen you standing up to authority with that sense of... of..."

"Stupidity?" Merlin suggested.

"Exactly!"

"Alright, Gwaine, we're going inside."

**Well, that was a fun chappy to write. I've been envisioning that fight between Arthur and Kaia for a while, and Gwaine sort of came into the chappy without planning, but whatever, I thought it ****worked out rather nicely. Anyway, I know some of you may be confused about the tournament thing, seeing as it was a Decennial Tournament, but don't worry, I'm going to cover that in the next chappy. Let me know what you think! XD**


	4. A Familiar Feeling

**Hey I'm back with another update. This story is so tiring,I mean, each chaps got at least 4 thousand words! This one is super long, and I did not even get as far as I planned to get! I've been typing this up for hours on end, I might need a doctor's appointment to check up on my health soon. LOL. Still, I think you'll like the next mystery that is unraveled about Merlin's history. So... This does not take place in Camelot like I planned...but I really wanted to throw this bit in. It's from Aneira's POV, Ava and Kaia's mommy. HAPPY READING! XD**

**Chapter Four**

**A Familiar Feeling**

_**One month earlier...**_

Aneira was running.

The sounds of twittering birds, peaceful winds, and forest animals moving about in the trees were non-existent as she fled from her pursuer. It had been such a long time since she'd had a rest. How long ago had it been that she was living contentedly with her daughters? Hardly a care in the world with servants waiting on her day and night? A calm bath every day and the freedom to use magic for the simplest of things? It must have been months at least. But right now Aneira could not fathom exactly how many, for she was too intent on fleeing her brother.

_No, not your brother. _Aneira thought. A traitor. A murderer. A scourge on the ancient magical bloodline that had existed for centuries, the bloodline they were descended from.

Aneira felt the familiar thrum of magical energy behind her, building up force, Zekeil was launching another assault. Aneira slowed in her sprinting, just a fraction, and she spun, thrusting out her hand while she faced the onslaught. A flash of bright red flames burned her eyes, and she quickly sent a pulse of her own magic out from her hand. The flames dissipated, leaving no signs of scorching on the surrounding trees, of course not, it wasn't supposed to. That spell was only meant to hurt Aneira, nothing else. Panting from exhaustion, she faced forward once again and ran harder than ever. The flames were not the killing sort, they were only meant to bring pain, pain that only Aneira would feel, for it was a poison to only one particular soul. Zekeil had only required her blood, which he must have found on that cursed stone she'd scraped her foot on the other day, to make the spell, and Aneira had already felt it's affects twice now. It was the sort of experience that made one keen to never undergo it again.

Aneira knew exactly what Zekeil wanted. Information. He wanted to know where her daughters had gone, so he could find Ava and suck the magic out of her in the same way he sucked it out of Tristan. Rage boiled in her blood as Aneira thought of what Zekeil had done to her only son, but she had learned a long time ago that trying to take revenge on a force such as her brother was a vain task. The first time she tried to kill Zekeil, nearly twenty years ago, had still left scars on Aneira's back, when he scorched her with a whip made of dark magic. Cyril, her long lost familiar had been by her side then, when she was still learning the ropes of her powers, he made her spells more potent by combining his energy with her own. But even then, it was not enough to defeat her brother. Whatever..._thing _had possessed him was both extremely powerful, and more evil than anything Aneira had ever encountered, be it in person or through the pages of a book. Even so, Aneira still wished that Cyril were here. She missed having his gray and white form by her side wherever she went, joking with her, advising her, being a best friend. But he had duties to perform, just like she did, Cyril was meant to move on to a different witch or wizard once they mastered their powers, and continue doing so for the rest of his life. She wondered if he still felt the bond of their friendship as much as she did, and if he sometimes felt as lonely without being able to be with her all the time. They had been together for years, ever since Aneira found him alone and injured in the woods, a yearling, and she herself only four.

She was shaken from her thoughts as she was forced to deflect another assault. Zekeil was also after something much more important (to him) than her daughter. He wanted to find Emrys. The most prophesied magical being in the history of the world. Emrys' powers were foretold to be so immensely great that they would make him immortal. He would have the ability to transform into any shape he desired without even uttering a spell. The power to appear in one place but be in another. Even the ability to command the heavens, change night into day, make lightening strike, cause the skies to snow in the middle of summer. There were so many stories that there were too many to tell, most were fables and fiction, but the prophecies of the Druids were fact, Emrys' powers were endless, and inevitably enticing to a craven of power such as Zekeil.

Now, why would Aneira know where the legendary Emrys was? After all, there was no foretelling of where he would be born, nor _when _he would be born. Many prophets and seekers had spent their lives looking for the wizard, but none could find him. How could Aneira hope to know the answer to a riddle that had been mind boggling to the most brilliant of men from the past? Because, she had stumbled across the fabled Hall of Prophecy in the deep caves under the Isle of the Blessed when she was but a young girl.

She had been schooled there by Priestesses of the Old Religion, back when they stood for the nobility and beauty of women who practiced magic. Those Priestesses had been killed in the Great Purge when Uther's men descended upon them with murder in their hearts while visiting Camelot, unaware that their very existence was now punishable by death in Uther's realm. After that vicious attack, the younger, less experienced Priestesses became bitter. They used dark magic, such as the wicked Formorroh (a snake that can have up to twenty heads. Their heads were used to control the minds of the Priestesses' enemies) in retaliation against the Purge, but in the end, their efforts only succeeded in causing the world to hate them as much as Uther did. Eventually, they were all wiped out, at least, that's what Aneira knew to be true, she'd been gone from the Isle for so long anything could have happened. But she still remembered all that her mentors had taught her, even though she refused to follow the path of a Priestess, and instead follow a different calling she could not find on the Isle.

The thing she remembered most clearly, was the night she fell into a bookcase, and tumbled down a stairwell, she had left Cyril sleeping in the dormitory in favor of going exploring a bit, since that martinet wolf would hold her back with his teeth if he had to.

The stairwell had landed her in an incredible room filled with art and so many words that it was beyond imagining. Most were written in runes that Aneira was just beginning to learn, they were runes of the Old Religion, and were commonly used to enhance spells or rituals. These runes were rarely used in normal writing, which was why Aneira was so astonished by the number of them on the walls. All of them were glittering gold. The art was even more breathtaking. Beautiful scenes were sewn into a number of silk tapestries, so real that Aneira thought if she tried to touch them that she would just fall through it and into the sewn landscapes. One tapestry showed a great mountain, so tall that the peak disappeared behind the clouds long before Aneira's eyes could find it. Giant creatures with bright scales were frozen in the scene, flying about the mountain. Some had prey in their claws heading for the mountain, others were leaving it, no doubt to go find some prey themselves. Aneira recognized them immediately, she had seen her father talking to these creatures before, _dragons! _She had never seen so many in one place before, Father had said that dragons were solitary beings, but this almost looked like a herd or a clan of some sort. The terrain and the sorts of trees there (almost as tall as Kilgharrah!) were not familiar either. Perhaps this was from a long time ago...

Another tapestry was a battlefield, it had so much detail and gore that if Aneira's mother were there she would be hiding her eyes for her. Unfortunately, she wasn't there, so Aneira was forced to take in the entire scene, blood, death and all. Standing apart from everything else, two men were locked in fierce combat. One of them looked like a king, he had blue eyes and blonde hair, his beard was like fuzz covering his chin, so he must not have been that old, thirty years maybe. His sword was strange though, it had runes on both sides of the blade, the one side she could see clearly might have read _"Kick me, pup."_, but since she was terrible at reading runes she doubted that it was correct. The one he was fighting looked younger, much younger, no more than nineteen. He had brown hair and icy blue eyes that made Aneira shiver. He had a crazed look on his face, one filled with pain and rage, but for what Aneira couldn't fathom. They looked ready to deliver killing blows simultaneously, for the king was an inch from stabbing his adversary, and the latter was aiming for the king's head with a mean-looking mace. Finding nothing else especially interesting in the picture, Aneira looked about the room more carefully.

To the right of the staircase she'd tumbled down, the room lengthened into a passage, every inch was covered with tapestries and ancient runes, and it dissolved into blackness before Aneira could see the end. To the left, the room ended abruptly, as though it had been chiseled at for a long time and finally the maker decided to just give up. But Aneira could swear that it had gotten longer since she'd been here... Yes, _those _runes had not been there before. They were right by the tapestry of the battlefield, which was the closest one to the end of the hall. These were easier for her to read.

_'Lefaya, Lefaya, O, praise to thee._

_May your name be worshiped for all to see._

_You wallowed in misery, you wallowed in hate,_

_But in the end you were not too late._

_Lefaya, Lefaya, O, praise to thee._

_You saved our people, on that we all agree._

_On the fields of Camlann, you proved all wrong,_

_Your loyalties were to us all along.'_

She wondered who 'Lefaya' was, she'd certainly never heard of her before, but whoever she was, apparently she was a heroine, even though she 'wallowed in hate and misery'. She could not find any other meaning in the words, so she cast about for something else to look at.

She found a group of family trees, one for each line of magical blood, engraved into the stone in the back of the hall. They were written in runes, no better than gibberish to her, but one tree she could read perfectly clear. Her family tree! She could probably read that one because...well... it was _her_ tree. She saw her parents, Felina and Darren, her grandparents, great grandparents, and so on and so on. When her eyes met the top of the tree she gasped. The man's name was unreadable, for it was masked by a layer of dust that she couldn't reach to wipe away, but the woman... Her father had told her she might be descended from her, but she never truly believed. The name, _Neahtid_, was inscribed there, clear as day. So Aneira's ancestor was one of the most powerful Seers in history! The first witch to be able to enter the _Draiocht Uaimh_, the Crystal Cave, and return with the first Seeing crystal ever made. Aneira surmised that her Seeing ability was passed down from her, and she also guessed that whoever Neahtid was... close to... was one of the first Dragonlords. She didn't know how the Dragonlords were born, only that they were almost as old as the dragons themselves.

Mind racing, her eyes drifted downwards until they found the names of her parents again, and she gasped. She and the names of her brothers were being carved into the rock, as if by an invisible claw, for the letters were emitting small golden sparks as they were written so she had to back away for fear of her dress catching fire. That wasn't all, Aneira's stomach churned when she saw her name be connected with another she didn't recognize (Uriah), and then three more names appear below it. Too unnerved to see the names of her future children, she focused on Balinor's, which was connected to the name, _Hunith_, and below that appeared two words.

_Merlin Emrys. _

The first half of the name meant nothing to Aneira, who named their child after a bird? But the second was all too familiar. She knew who Emrys was, anyone who studied the lore of magic to any extent knew who Emrys was. But how could her stupid, maniacal little _twit_ of a baby brother be Emrys' father? He was only nine at the time, and he was the most annoying person she had ever known, surpassing even her depressing older brother Zekeil. The most annoying thing he did, was after eating cob of corn, he would put the seeds inside his mouth and spit them at her in the most inconvenient of times. Sometimes she felt like slapping him in the face or cracking a bowl in half on top of his head, but she restrained herself since she not only would get into serious trouble, but she was not the type of person to stoop to that _low level_ that Balinor had placed himself on (Well... she also had a heart not to injure her brother).

She wasn't given much time to mull over the tree though, because right then a Priestess burst into the room, screaming bloody murder, and practically dragged Aneira out by the ears. She was sworn to secrecy that very night, meaning that she wasn't to tell anyone, not even her own family, and was even advised to forget everything she saw. But how could she? How could one forget their own future if they literally saw it set in stone? Aneira spent every opportunity she had to go searching for the Hall of Prophecy, but she never did find it again. When she returned to her home two years later, now fifteen, she kept the secrets of the Hall from everyone, true to her word, for twenty years. That is, until a few months ago...

_The heat was almost unbearable. She would have been dead if not for her protective char__ms laced all around her body. The flames licked her face, harmless but for the burning feeling left on her skin. At least she wouldn't be scarred. _

_She was hiding in her wrecked room, like a coward, but she didn't have a choice. If she wanted to give her children enough time to escape then she would need to make her brother search long and hard for her. The curtains that had been newly replaced a few weeks ago, after Ava had incinerated the first pair, were once again writhing in flames. Had the room not been in this state, it would be calm and elegant like the ocean in the middle of Summer, blue velvet covered most of the furniture, and a painting of the forest hung on the wall next to the balcony. But now that was in ruins as well, and the way to the balcony was blocked by the zealous flames all over her room._

_Her fingers clutched the edge of her nightstand behind her, slippery with a layer of sweat that coated the rest of her body. It wouldn't be long, she'd sent Kaia away with Ava nearly an hour ago, surely Zekeil would have combed each and every corner of the castle by now. _

_The castle... This would do so much damage to her home. The home of her people, her children, her greatest accomplishment in life. Her heart once again filled loathing for her brother. How could he destroy the lives of his own kind? But she knew how. He had become infected with the lust for power, and acquiring it made him all the more greedy. The last time she'd seen him he was on the brink of madness. By now, he had to be completely and utterly insane. _

_She did not regret giving Kaia her father's blades in the slightest. If there was the smallest chance that they would defend her against Zekeil, Aneira would part with them a thousand times over. The blades were infused with a powerful hex that would allow them to repel the basic forms of magical attack. Aneira recalled her father using them so well, he could rebound a ball of fire back at his opponents with one skilled swipe. If only her father were here now, so he could rebound all of these murderous spells back at _their_ caster. _

_Aneira closed her eyes to get rid of the uncomfortable dry and itching feeling they were experiencing. When she opened them, she saw her brother standing in the middle of her room, among the flames. _

_She didn't startle, she wasn't surprised. She had never been afraid of Zekeil, or his antics. Now all she felt towards him was rage. Rage that he killed their father. Rage that she couldn't kill him for it. Rage that he killed her son. Rage that he was here now, for the sheer purpose of gaining power, and destroying all that Aneira held dear in the process. _

_"Aren't we too old to be playing hide and seek, dear sister?" he smirked. He was missing a tooth, Aneira noted with satisfaction, she hoped it had been lost in a painful struggle. His red irises, once a somber shade of blue, glowed with mirth. The blackness that filled the rest of his eyes seemed to grin in the form of a serpent. 'A god in the form of a red serpent' Aneira recalled, that's what had tempted her brother all those years ago. But it was not responsible for all of his actions, he had the choice to refuse it's offer, to stand by his kin regardless of his lack of magic, but he didn't. He wore the same clothing Kaia had described him wearing when he abducted Tristan, a black cloak, and a red and black tunic. _

_"I am not your sister, Zekeil. Nor are you my brother. You know this." Aneira kept her voice tight, for fear that she would start yelling profanities at him. _

_"You can't deny blood." Zekeil said, spreading out his arms, completely confident of his authority._

_"Just get what you want and be gone. I won't allow you to remain in my home any longer than necessary." Aneira snarled. _

_"Just what makes you think you could keep me from remaining here? You've already tried to best me, Aneira, and you failed, even with your familiar by your side. I was weak then! Now I am stronger than you could hope to imagine. But yes, I suppose you're right." _

_Without warning, Aneira's body was lifted into the air, arms locked to her sides. She cried out, her charms were evaporating in the presence of Zekeil's power, and she was beginning to feel the full pain of the fire. Her magic was useless, she couldn't even get a grasp on it because Zekeil was holding it down. Now she couldn't even lash out at him, if only to try and give him a hard time. _

_"I think I will get what I want. I want your cooperation." Zekeil looked up at her, suspended in the air, with an antagonizing smile. In response, she spat at him, the spit evaporated before it even reached the ground, but the sentiment wasn't lost. Zekeil raised his right hand, it's three fingers were all cut down to the same length, the result of an accident with an ax while gathering firewood, and he made a fist. _

_Aneira's ribcage collapsed in on itself, and she let out a strangled gasp. It was as though Zekeil's fist was wrapped around her stomach, trying to squeeze the life out of her. _

_"You have something I want. Don't try to lie. You would be surprised at the variety of magical powers I possess, and one of those is to know when I am being fooled." He opened his fist, and Aneira could breathe again. _

_"I just visited the Isle of the Blessed."_

_Aneira struggled not to show her fear at that statement, but Zekeil must have seen it anyway._

_"Oh, yes, you should be afraid. While I was there, I... came across something odd underneath the island. It was a room. A room in shambles by the time I found it, destroyed during the Purge I suspect, but I discerned little bits and pieces of the wreckage. Prophesies. And even more interesting, family trees."_

_Aneira was really burning up now. Her vision was filled with the flames, ever swarming, and the joyful red eyes of her brother. He was just playing with her, she knew it, but she could not do a thing about it. _

_"Did you know, Aneira, that our entire family roots were written in that room? Of course, the names were all mixed around in the debris. I could not place them, I wouldn't care except, I found this."_

_He reached in his pocket and brought out a stone, holding it aloft for Aneira to see. She saw the word _Emrys, _engraved on the surface. _

_"You know who that is, don't you?" Zekeil asked, not expecting an answer. "Interestingly enough, it was among the rubble of _our_ family. So I wondered... Why would the name of the most powerful sorcerer in the world be in this decrepit old room?"_

_Aneira was in a lot of pain now, her arms were burning. She could only guess the reason she wasn't on fire herself was because of Zekeil's magic. But she was tired of his monologue._

_"Just get on with it Zekeil!" she said. _

_Her brother smiled at her again, knowing full well that she wanted nothing more than to choke him with his own beard. "I can see you're tired, so I'll give you some slack. But really, little sister, you should know by now that being rude won't get you what you want. Anyways," he continued, before Aneira could shout at him again. "I'll get to the point. I know you spent a few years at the Isle of the Blessed, it seems almost impossible that an inquisitive being such as yourself could never have found something so prominent as the _Hall of Prophecy._" He was glaring at Aneira now, an unspoken threat in his gaze, if she wouldn't cooperate with him, he had all the power in the world to make her suffer for it._

_"Who is Emrys?" _

_Aneira braced herself for the pain as much as she could, staying silent. She refused to look at the monster her brother had become, the monster that was about to tear her to pieces. _

_There wasn't even any warning. Aneira was thrashing in the air with the emotionless eyes of Zekeil watching her. She was burning, freezing, and breaking all at once. She couldn't tell which way was up, she might have been screaming, but she couldn't focus enough to care. After what seemed an eternity in Hell, the pain stopped, leaving Aneira's body limp, and her mind numb. _

_"Who is Emrys? Go on, tell me." Somehow his face had become level with hers, and he was staring into her eyes with all the compassion and sympathy in the world. Only it wasn't sympathy, it was mockery. Aneira didn't know what to do. Her head wasn't straight, but she did know one thing. If Zekeil found out that Balinor was alive, and not only that, but with Emrys as a son, nothing would stop him from finishing the job he set out to do the same night he killed their father. She could not let Zekeil take away anyone else from her, no one else. _

_"I don't know. I only saw that he was yet to be born in our family. My teachers found me before I saw anything else." she whispered painfully. Every tiny breath was agony..._

_"You lie!" Zekeil growled. But before he could do anything else, a huge burst of magical energy flew out of nowhere and threw Zekeil away from Aneira and into the flames. _

_Aneira fell to the floor and lie still, hardly breathing, and she dully saw the hands of her friend, Tahir, a servant of her household for only a few years, grasp her shoulders and lift her up. She faintly heard the words of the ancient language, and she fell into sweet oblivion. _

After that, Tahir had teleported them to the Forest of Maat, and healed Aneira's wounds. Even the most low standing of people in the Outer Lands possessed a great deal of magic. He was the one who attacked Zekeil, after finally finding Aneira after hours of searching. Upon waking up, Aneira decided that she needed to leave the Outer Lands. Once she was gone, so would Zekeil be, so her people would be safe. Giving Tahir her farewell, she found herself on the run once again.

Now, after months of running, and still with no sign of her daughters (which was a good thing, she didn't want Zekeil getting his filthy hands on them), Aneira could tell she was tiring, and so could her brother.

Her only hope was to somehow find a way to hide, if only for a while, just to catch her breath. She wondered where she was now. Not Gedref, that was certain, she had passed the border mere days after leaving the Outer Lands, Mercia perhaps? Escetia? She had no idea. Whatever the case, she would not be welcomed in any dwelling of the five kingdoms. She might be able to hide her identity, her magic, but not with Zekeil behind her every step she took. No, with Zekeil following her, even if she did find a place to stay it would put the people around her in danger, and she wouldn't risk that.

She took a moment to _See _how far ahead she was, not her normal sight, the _Sight _passed down to her from Neahtid. Spreading her magical senses about the forest while still keeping a steady sprint, she saw animals like rabbits, birds, and deer dashing away from the dark magic they could sense emanating from Zekeil. Animal senses were usually very attuned to the things around them, much more so than humans, especially when it came to magic. Another reason why familiars were so helpful to witches and wizards. The gods and goddesses had not been messing around when they created the world, they gave all manner of creatures some sort of vital connection to one another. To ensure that no one species could ultimately damage another without causing harm to themselves. The only flaw in their plan was that some creatures had no qualms about harming their own kin, some live only for themselves and damn the well-being of others, and some are poisoned with hatred and bitterness so much that their hearts turn to stone. Like Zekeil.

Shifting her attention from the animals, Aneira focused on the energy, which she imagined to be the color of blood, that was pursuing her. He was further away than she expected, nearly three leagues. But that was a distance Zekeil could cover in half a second if he wanted to. Even if she concealed herself, Zekeil would be able to find her by using his own senses to sniff out her magic. What Aneira needed was a _veil. _A common, yet complex charm used to mask the caster in a variety of ways. _Veils _could be used to make one invisible, unnoticeable, or utterly erase them from memory. The only setback was that they only lasted for a short while, a day at most if the caster was skilled. Aneira could use a _veil _to hide the 'scent' of her magic while she recuperated somewhere safe. She had used this charm several times in the last few months, and luckily Zekeil hadn't found a counter charm to expel it.

First she would need to find a remote area and put protective spells around it. Casting a _veil_, especially one as complex as this one, required immense concentration and time. So she set up the protective charms to block Zekeil's attacks while she worked on the _veil. _It did not take long to find a proper spot, a clearing tinged with purple and pink under the setting sun. (Had she really been running for a whole day?) With the charms set up, Aneira could almost feel Zekeil's frustration knowing that he was about to be thwarted again, even if he reached her in time, her shield would keep at bay long enough to make the _veil. _Sitting cross-legged in the center of her protective circle, she began to chant, imagining a blue aura forming around her that would mask her from sight and her magic scent.

_"Hydan min galdorcræft æt gebróðorscipe... Hydan min æt sien..." _

It went on like this for ten minutes, and slowly her form became transparent, until it disappeared altogether. Zekeil had not shown up all this time, which pleased Aneira greatly. Apparently he was finally learning that no matter how powerful he thought he was, he could not yet bend the laws of magic. Finally, Aneira was safe. But she still had to keep moving. If she just stayed there the whole time Zekeil would catch her the moment her charm wore off. Sighing, she stood up and ran once again into the trees.

It was nighttime now.

The stars and moon glowed with confidence in the dark sky, almost as if to say _'We're watching out for you.' _Aneira hoped that the Triple Moon Goddess really was watching out for her, and more importantly, her daughters and elusive nephew. She wondered if she would ever see any of them again. For all she knew, Kaia and Ava had been caught by bandits or Uther's knights and been killed. Balinor and Emrys could have been killed too... No. Something inside her, deeper than just instinct, told her that they were too important to be killed before their destinies unfolded. All three of them, Kaia, Ava, and Emrys had some crucial part to play in the future, the very near future if her theory was correct.

She gasped in pain as her foot snagged on a root and she fell to the ground. Panting, she took in the smell of dirt and grass, closing her eyes and thinking how futile her life had become. Why did she keep running? Why did she not just give up and let go of her life? That way she would ensure that Zekeil never found her daughters, or Emrys. She would die for a noble cause... Something bright flashed in front of her face, and when she opened her eyes to investigate, she was shocked to find that the sun was up, and she was no longer alone. When had that happened?

Standing up, she noted that she was in the midst of a battlefield. Knights wearing the crest of Cenred, a black snake with orange spots and eyes, were all attacking a single knight of Camelot. Despite the overwhelming odds, the knight was faring extremely well, blocking a blow from one foe and slashing the torso of another. He fought with great courage and skill, almost as if he'd done this sort of thing a million times before. He had blonde hair and light blue eyes, and for some reason he seemed familiar. Her focus snapped from the knight to two other men behind him, who were also fighting Cenred's knights. One looked rather young, he had messy black hair, high cheek bones and slightly large ears. He was dressed as a servant, with a shabby brown jacket over a blue shirt, unique boots that had five different buckles, and a red scarf tied around his neck. The other man, who looked much older, had longer hair than Aneira had ever seen him with. He wore an animal skin cape and other unkempt clothing, but his spirit had not been dulled in the slightest. It was her little brother, Balinor, well, not so little anymore. She wanted to call out to him, but when she tried her voice wouldn't work. The _veil _wasn't supposed to keep people from hearing her, only from seeing her. Then she realized, this wasn't really happening, this was a vision, she could not interact with any of the things around her.

Balinor took up a sword and dispatched with one of Cenred's men, quickly turning to another. Aneira was confused. Why was Balinor helping a knight of Camelot and his servant? Surely he had learned his lesson from the last time he was tricked by Uther... Besides, Kilgharrah was imprisoned, there was no need of him in Camelot. The boy saw Balinor fighting with the knights, and decided to try it himself, though he clearly was not skilled at swordplay at all. He picked up a fallen knight's sword and was immediately attacked by another foe, he did well for the first few blows, but the knight he was fighting was experienced, and he knocked the servant's weapon out of his hand. Just as he was about to stab the boy, Balinor ran up to him and blocked the blow. But was too slow for the next.

Aneira would have screamed if her voice was working, instead she gazed with silent horror as the blade pierced her brother's lungs. When the boy saw what happened, he gave the knight a look of utmost loathing. In the next second, his eyes flashed a bright gold and he roared, throwing the enemy back and into the tree, breaking his neck. His expression changed instantly from rage to concern and disbelief, much like Aneira was feeling. He lowered Balinor to the forest floor, and held him in his arms. Balinor looked up at him and gave him a smile.

"I see you have your father's talent." He told him. Aneira gaped. _Father's talent? Was this...? Could this be...?_

"Merlin." Balinor continued. _Merlin. _That was his name! The name she saw in front of his other name in the Hall of Prophecy, _Emrys. _

"Please no, please! I can save you!" Merlin said. Aneira felt her heart break for the boy. He looked so desperate, like this had happened to him before, and was helpless to stop it. Aneira wondered why he didn't know how to save his father. Surely Balinor would have taught him about healing magic growing up? So little made sense standing from afar, and she was more concerned with the increasingly low health of her brother. Why was this happening? How could he be _dying _after all this time away from her because of a single bloody knight?

"Listen to me! When you face the dragon... Remember. Be strong. A dragon's heart is on it's right side, not it's left." Balinor was telling his son this _now? _With his dying breath? Merlin should already know this!

"I can't do-" Merlin interjected. He looked so hopeless... Aneira wished that she were really were there, then she could heal her brother, just like she cleared the poison from his lungs all those years ago when Zekeil tried to kill him.

"Listen to me!" Balinor interrupted. "My son..." A tear was forming on the corner of Merlin's eye. But Balinor did not look distressed. He seemed peaceful... Something Aneira had only seen him be while he was asleep. But he wasn't just peaceful, he was looking at Merlin with wistfulness as well, knowing that he would not be able to see his son again.

"I've seen enough in you to know you'll make me proud."

The sounds of battle had died around them, as though the world knew that they needed this moment to themselves, though it was only just a moment. Merlin nodded. And the pair looked into each others eyes for the last time. Balinor gently brushed Merlin's cheek with his hand, and his head fell back.

"No..." Merlin said softly, desperately. "Father..." Tears fell as he realized his plea went unheard. Balinor was dead.

"NO!" A voice shouted from behind. Aneira and Merlin gasped. It was the knight of Camelot, and he was looking at Balinor's dead body like it was his own grave-marker. Merlin quickly wiped the tears from his face, choking back all of his grief, and replacing it with a stoic face.

"Camelot is doomed." The knight said. Aneira felt a twinge of anger at him. Did he not realize that Merlin had just lost his father?

_No... _Aneira thought. _He must not. If he knew Merlin was the son of a Dragonlord, the boy would have been strung up by now. But he seemed to know that Balinor was a Dragonlord... _

The conclusion came to her as Merlin turned around with that painfully emotionless face to look at the knight. Merlin had only just met his father, only just learned that he was a Dragonlord, and he was keeping it a secret because of the law against magic.

The knight spoke in an undertone after a while. "We should go."

Merlin swallowed, and looked back at his father. "Shouldn't we bury him?" He asked with a croak in his voice.

The knight looked at Balinor, too, and sighed. "No, Merlin. There isn't time."

When met with Merlin's scandalized stare, he added. "We can burn him. That'll be a proper funeral, won't it?" The knight stared at Merlin, who was looking at Balinor again, with confusion, obviously wondering why he was so visibly upset.

"Thank you, Arthur." Merlin said. He couldn't really mean it, not after what had just happened. But he said it, nonetheless. Aneira was so full of different emotions that she felt ready to explode. Pity for Merlin, grief and anger at Balinor's death, anger at Arthur for being a knight of Camelot and so insensitive, and most confusing of all, joy. She was joyful that she had found Emrys, at last, and also because she knew the happiness Balinor must have felt when he found out he had a son.

She saw Arthur gather some wood for the fire, cutting down smaller trees and picking up fallen branches. When there was enough, the two arranged the wood around Balinor's body. No words were said, Arthur did not know or care enough about Balinor, and Merlin could not say anything without exposing his magic. But Aneira could tell he was thinking them with all his heart, and Aneira was too. Even though this was only a vision. Merlin refused to light the fire, so Arthur, giving Merlin another look, struck two rocks together, creating dancing sparks. The wood caught.

Aneira's eyes snapped open. She was on the ground, and the moon was still shining brightly above her head. How long had she been out? That was a low priority on her mind right now, though. Mostly, she was wondering at what she just saw. There was no chance it had only been a dream, Aneira never just had dreams. Every time she closed her eyes and drifted off she received some forthcoming of the following day. The night before the day Zekeil attacked her home, for example. She dreamed of fiery serpents slithering around the castle, spitting venom and snapping at her heels. Then there was the day she had saved Balinor from being frozen into a creek when his feet got stuck, she had dreamed of a blue dragon crashing into an icy river. The dream she had just experienced however, seemed very different from those dreams. They had been made up of confusing signs and events that symbolized an event that _could _happen, but in this dream, there was nothing befuddling, the dream had been completely clear, like it was unchangeable. Aneira had never had this kind of dream before, and hers usually focused on the future. It could not have been happening at the present time, because she was in the exact spot where it had happened, and it was nighttime as opposed to early dawn when it occurred. The only plausible explanation was that it was a vision of the past, how far past, Aneira didn't know. One thing was for sure, though.

Balinor was dead.

**PHEW! That took forever. So. Let me know what you think. Comments, questions, concerns? (That is the most common phrase among teachers, don't you agree?) BTW I think Hunith might get the spotlight next chappy. But this story almost writes itself! So if it says no, I won't be able to help it. Oooh! Meanings of the different language words!**

_**Draiocht Uaimh- Basically, it means 'Magic Cave' not very creative I know, I have no clue how to pronounce it because it's in Gaelic.**_

_**Hydan min galdorcræft æt gebróðorscipe... Hydan min æt sien.- Hide my magic from my brother. Hide me from sight. **_**That's in Old English, just like the show does it. Um... yeah I have no idea how to pronounce that either, ask Colin Morgan or Katie McGrath, they'll know, since they literally have to speak it on national tv. (lol) **

**About that rhyme with 'Lefaya'. I suck at poetry, I know, especially if it has to rhyme. I hope I didn't put you through too much torture having to read that. Anyway, I'm sure you can all guess who Lefaya is, right? If not, hit the books or go to google and type Le Fay, see what comes up. I thought if Merlin got a special Druid name, then 'Le Fay' should have one too since they are both foretold in the prophecies. Am I annoying you? Ok, Ill stop giving you spoilers.  
>Farewell, fellow comrades in fanfiction. XD<strong>


	5. An Unfamiliar Familiar

**Chapter Five**

**An Unfamiliar Familiar**

**Still one month earlier.**

**Hunith**

Hunith was picking berries.

She was a ways south of the village, Ealdor, walking alongside the recently dubbed Simmons Creek. It had been renamed in honor of Old Man Simmons, who had passed on a few months ago due to illness. He hadn't exactly been that well-liked by many, but he had lived here for as long as anyone could remember, and it was decided that some memory should remain of the grouchy old fellow who lived in the house surrounded by cedar trees for a long time to come.

Sighing, Hunith plucked a blueberry from the bush and dropped it in her hand-woven basket. She missed Merlin. They hadn't seen each other since Morgana was usurped, and she was beginning to worry.

_"Mother, you know I don't want you to worry." _Merlin's voice resounded in her head, repeating the words he'd said the night of Agravaine's attack.

_But that's what mothers _do. Hunith thought. He was such a sweet boy, still so amazingly kindhearted even after everything that had happened since he left home. Hunith could hardly bear to imagine how much suffering her son had gone through. What with having to hide his true self from his friends, Gwen, Arthur, and now those other upbeat knights that he had grown so close to. Not to mention Morgana's betrayal; she had been nothing but valiant and compassionate when Hunith met her for the first time, but now she had become so cold, it must have hurt Merlin badly, as it had done Hunith when she was told. Merlin had told her what transpired in order for her to become so hateful, saying that it had been his fault because he had been forced to poison her, but Hunith, although shocked, would have none of it. She had reassured him, by telling him that she wouldn't have done any different, and that it was the only road he could have taken.

Then the topic of Merlin's father came up. As Hunith listened to Merlin's story of meeting Balinor and losing him the next day, she felt tears flowing down her cheeks. How could one heart bear so much pain? The conversation they had that night had been filled with anger, desperation, and sorrow. But in the end, mother and son had rekindled the spark that held them together, despite Hunith never telling Merlin about Balinor. He even seemed to understand that it _had _been for the best, as it would have endangered him even more if he knew.

Hunith, more often than seldom, considered the wisdom of her decision to send Merlin to Camelot, and she, more often than seldom, concluded that it had been the best choice to make. If he had remained in Ealdor, his magic would've stayed the way it had been, erratic and uncontrollable, more people than just Will would've noticed. Hunith still remembered with a shudder those terrible migraines he would get, as though he were burning on the inside. The only thing that could lessen the pain for him was to let some of it go, whether it was by making objects float about the house, or causing the fire to leap into the air like dragon's breath with a flash of golden irises.

True, the headaches had gotten better as he grew older, but as much as Hunith hated to admit it, it scared her sometimes, his magic. Not the magic itself, if that were the case she would never have loved Balinor, but the terrible things the magic could bring. The headaches were just one problem, most of all, she feared that it would bring about the death of her son, the only one she had left to love in this world. She knew Will never would have turned Merlin in, he was his most loyal friend after all, anyone with half a brain could see that, but there were others in the village who were not nearly as trustworthy.

Hunith froze. She had heard something moving about in the leaves, and it was much bigger than a fluffy rabbit.

Gripping her basket tightly in case she needed to swing it at the culprit's head, she faced the area where the sound was coming from. The leaves shifted in the breeze, and the noise of snapping twigs reached Hunith's ears, along with a low growling. Hunith felt her stomach grow cold, if this was a beast of some kind, she was going to be in big trouble, she had nothing to defend herself with except this frayed old basket.

_"Do not fear. I am not here to harm you."_

The basket fell to the earth, spilling it's contents all over the ground. All Hunith could do was stare as a white paw, about as big as her fist, came forward. A gray and white head emerged a second later, showing startling green eyes. It was a wolf, but its eyes were far too intelligent, its movements far too graceful to be a wolf, besides, wolves could not speak!

_"You are quite wrong about that." _a male voice sounded in her head again, and Hunith gasped.

_"We wolves speak very clearly, it is you humans who can't seem to understand what we have to say. Oh, how many lives could have been saved if your race wasn't so utterly daft! We have tried to warn you against certain actions that would cause great damage on several occasions, but you always refuse to listen."_

Hunith swallowed. If there was a wolf talking to her, she may as well talk back, she was going to wake up soon anyway."Well, perhaps your kind and mine have different tongues, though now I find myself not as sure as I was before meeting you. Wherever did you learn to speak?"

An eerie wind whistled through the trees, making the wolf's fur and Hunith's dress flap wildly in the air.

_"I will explain much to you before long, but for now you need to follow me." _The wind was picking up now, it hadn't seemed as though there would be a storm this morning...

"What do you mean, follow you? I have a life here, I have a son, if I leave-"

_"Yes, yes, I know all about your son. Merlin, yes?" _

"How do you know that name? What are you?" Hunith yelled, partly to be heard over the wind, partly because of anger and shock.

_"Not what. Who. I am Cyril, a friend of yours, and Merlin's, you could almost say we're family. You see, I knew your late companion, Balinor. Very well, in fact, we grew up together. Now, it is not the time for questions. This wind is of no natural sort, you are in danger, someone very powerful knows who you are, knows who your son is, and unless you want him to find you both, we need to move. Follow me, Hunith, for your son." _

_For your son... _Hunith had no idea what was going on, and she had half a mind to disregard the wolf entirely and run back to her house to shelter through the storm like any sane person would do. But even though this... this _Cyril _had only just popped up out of the blue, and had to be a figment of her imagination, she couldn't deny the knowledge he held of her family, knowledge no ordinary mad wolf would have, and he seemed to think Merlin was in danger. Whether he knew it or not, he had said the magic words, so to speak, Hunith would do anything for Merlin.

With a nod of her head, the pair set out into the storm, and Hunith left Ealdor behind, for how long, she did not yet know.

* * *

><p><strong>Cyril<strong>

Cyril led the mother of Emrys through the storm, the storm that had been caused by Zekeil. His hackles rose, but the high winds blowing his fur about kept the woman from being able to tell, he hated Zekeil just as much as Aneira did, but he _understood _more than Aneira. She was letting her anger get in the way of her logic, as it had always done when it came to Zekeil. She disregarded the creature possessing her brother too quickly, choosing instead to hate and not to see, which in part was why Cyril had returned to her. Aneira would play a crucial role in the fate of Albion, but in her current state of rage she would never be able to meet that role. So, as always, it fell to a familiar to ensure that she would be ready for what was to come. He would be lying if Cyril said he was disappointed in his charge, in a way, he was happy with her. She had become the woman she always wanted to be, strong, powerful, and a true leader. But that was also why she was straying, seeing everything she worked so hard for destroyed and her children hunted and sometimes killed had blinded her to the truth of her brother's betrayal.

While some of Zekeil's actions were his own, most were influenced by the creature inside of him.

Only, this creature was not a creature, it was a god.

An ancient and powerful god who had been there when the world was created in fire, ice, and wind at the beginning of time. At the beginning, he was a trusted friend and brother to the other gods, and may even have had a kind of romance with the Triple Moon Goddess, sometimes known as Brigid. But his true nature could not be hidden forever. Apparently, the gods found out he was showing himself on earth, and forcing a group of people to worship him by offering sacrifices of each other to prove their loyalty. This crime was unthinkable to them, as all life is sacred and to take it for themselves was not only blasphemous, but absolutely _evil. _He had been sucking the life force out of the souls that were sacrificed, making his power stronger, but dark. Brigid, with her lover's treachery revealed, let the other gods go after him, while she hid herself away, and refused to look upon him ever again.

Once he was overpowered, he let his true colors fly. He attacked the other gods, and they had no choice but to fight back lest they be killed themselves. Together, they unleashed a curse upon him, a curse whose intentions were not to kill, but to break, since gods could not be killed. They doomed him to simply be ignored. No insect would chirp at his presence, no man would look upon him with love or even hate, and he could never again live in the Divine Plane, the land of the gods. To live in invisibility for all eternity, a more unpleasant punishment could not be erected in a hundred thousand years, but it was the only way to keep him from harming any more souls.

Unfortunately, they could not take away his power, or his cunning and will. Lurking in the light, in full sight of all but never seen, he would whisper dark thoughts into the air, tainting it with his impurity and causing the meaning of evil to suddenly be known throughout the world. Tales of a rogue god that lived for everything awful rose out of the mists, and they inspired fear in the minds of the living.

As Cyril understood it, this unnamed deity was given different title throughout the world in different cultures and races of both men and beasts. Some called him Set, or Apocalypse, the Christians would call him Satan, or Lucifer, and when Cyril was a pup his mother would tell him stories about an evil god named Olcan. But in the Old Religion, this god had no name. The ancients had believed to give evil a name, was to give it power, and the best way to avoid it was to ignore it entirely, the same as the gods from the Divine Plane had done, so the god had remained abstract to them. No books were written about him, no paintings or tapestries made, no legends or stories were told to the new generation, he was forgotten.

But he would not forget. He had never forgotten, all this time, he had been gathering strength, enough strength to find a soul that would willingly do his bidding, and merge himself with it. And now that he had found one in Zekeil, he was using the new body to accumulate even more power until he could undo the curse completely, and return to the Divine Plane to enact his revenge.

The gods knew this, and they also knew that if Zekeil was successful in his plan, the entire world would fall into turmoil. With no gods to regulate the winds, the tides, or the earth, all life would be forfeit. The prophecies made of what to come after that point would be undone, to be replaced with a future filled with blood, torture and death. Magic would be lost forever, and Zekeil's reign would destroy the world, causing it all to shift back into an endless black hole of nothing.

To stop this from happening, the gods contacted Cyril and told him he was to return to his first charge, Aneira, and help her realize her true role as an _Oracle_, the arc of _seeing_ and title of the best _Seer _in Albion, just as her ancestor, Neahtid had been. That was the reason familiars were so different than other animals, not only did they have the ability to converse with different species than themselves and wield magic, they could converse with the gods. Or rather, the gods conversed with them and they just listened and did as they were told, not that Cyril minded though. After all, the gods knew what they were doing, Cyril believed in them completely, all he had to do was fulfill his mission and the world would be safe for magic-users and non-magic-users alike. Although, _that _part of the mission rested less on Cyril's shoulders than it did on those of Emrys. But if Emrys was going to do that, he needed to be alive, and in order for Emrys to stay alive, he needed to remain abstract to Zekeil. Hence the reason Cyril was now leading a peasant woman through an unnatural storm. _It couldn't be far now._

All they had to do was reach Aneira in the mountains of Escetia, where she had been relentlessly working on a _veil _that would keep all three of them safe from Zekeil's sight for however long was needed. It was a spell of such potency that had never been accomplished before, but there was a first time for everything, and hopefully tonight would be the first. Cyril's ears tilted backwards when Emrys' mother began to shout over the storm so he could hear better.

"Where are we going?" she yelled, trying to contain the skirts of her dress so they wouldn't fly about every which way in the wind.

_"The mountains of Escetia. There is a woman there who is going to help you." _The woman's response to him was lost in the wind.

_"I can't hear you properly in this weather, try thinking what you want to say, like I'm doing."_

Cyril waited for about a minute, still trudging through the storm, before he got a faint wisp of foreign thought enter his mind. He was surprised it took her such a short time, perhaps she had magic of her own.

_"Do you mean you expect me to walk all the way to the mountains in a storm? That will take days!" _Her annoyance and confusion were obvious in her tone, and Cyril couldn't help but chuckle wolfishly.

_"Don't worry, it won't take that long. We familiars have shortcuts we use to get around secretly, I'll show you when we reach the edge of the forest." _The woman didn't reply after that, choosing instead to navigate her way over fallen branches that snatched at her clothing. Cyril never understood why human females insisted on wearing such impractical adornments, it was hard enough getting around on only two legs in his opinion. (Yes, he had once tried walking on his two back legs, it had ended in disaster and Aneira's immense amusement when he fell into a table after three seconds)

It was then that they finally reached the edge of the forest, quite literally. If Cyril had taken one more step, he would have found himself tumbling head over paws down past the rocky cliff side, decorated with scraggly weeds and gnarled trees. The rock face was tricky, for a moment it would seem there was a safe path down the way, but then it would succumb to sharp inclines where rock-slides had taken the road away. But that didn't matter, Cyril wasn't planning on going down that way.

_"Hold on, Hunith. I must concentrate, it won't be long." _Cyril thought he heard a huff of annoyance, and he chuckled again.

He looked up to the sky, and was met with a icy drop of water, luckily, the wind was blowing in the right direction, so Cyril opened his mouth and howled as loud as he could. His voice echoed eerily and powerfully across the terrain, reverberating against hillsides and causing heads to look up at the sky. He waited for Aneira to respond, a moment later he heard her voice in his head.

_"Cyril, you've made it then? You found his mother?" _she asked.

_"Of course I did, what do you take me for?"_ Without waiting for an answer, he said, _"We'll be making the journey to you shortly. Is the veil ready?"_

_"Yes, but it was extremely draining, Cyril. I don't know how much I can help you with the spell."_

_"That'll be fine, just tell me where you are, and open the veil so we can get in. Hunith is very tired, I don't think she can take much more walking in this weather."_

Once Aneira had told him where she had set up the _veil_, Cyril looked back at Hunith.

_"Hunith, I need you to grab onto me, and hold on as tightly as you can, and... trust me." _

Hunith nodded, though she fixed him with a suspicious gaze, and wrapped her arms around Cyril like she was hugging him. Cyril looked down at the cliff-side, it was now or never. Taking a deep breath, he launched himself off the cliff, with Hunith still clutching his fur and screaming as the gap of air between them and the ground became shorter and shorter.

* * *

><p><strong>Hunith<strong>

Hunith was falling.

The part of her mind that wasn't in a swirling panic couldn't believe her luck. Here she was, clinging to a crazy talking wolf plummeting to the earth below when she should have been resting soundly in her home. Part of the blame was on her though, for even listening to a talking wolf, never mind that he knew Balinor and Merlin, he was just insane!

The ground was very close now, and Hunith's last thought was how she was going to explain to Merlin that she died because she had been stupid enough to trust a wolf, then she remembered she wouldn't be able to tell him because she would be dead. Her stomach fell to her heels as the earth met her face, eyes closed, she waited for the pain that would surely come and then the sensation of floating up to Avalon, but neither of these things happened. Instead, she just felt... giddy.

_Was that how you were supposed to feel when you're dead? _Hunith asked herself, luckily she received no answer. Her mind felt like mush anyway, she couldn't feel her toes, or her legs for that matter, maybe she _was _dead. That's when she finally hit the ground. The breath was knocked out her and she lost her grasp on the wolf's fur, she was surprised she hadn't already, since she couldn't feel her fingers. But no... she did feel her fingers! She felt her feet, her toes, her arms... she was alive!

She took a deep breath, but instead of smelling the oncoming rain from the storm or the pines, she smelled something unfamiliar. A calm breeze in contrast to the torrents that had just been blowing her about in midair tickled her nose, and as she sneezed, her eyes snapped open. She was lying on her stomach in the mouth of cave, facing the great landscape of the mountains of Escetia. Patches of greenery and trees dotted the terrain, and ponds of accumulated rain water filled the occasional dip in the sharp ground. Overhead, the sky loomed much closer than Hunith was used to, and various mountain birds like falcons and eagles performed their aerodynamic act while simultaneously searching for food. Across the valley, a mountain goat was bounding up the rock like a fish through water, and as Hunith watched, its horned form disappeared behind a boulder.

"Hello, Hunith."

_Oh, great. _More _strangers with suspicious agendas. _Hunith thought. But when she turned her head to look back into the cave, she saw someone she wasn't expecting. A woman with a kind smile on her face stood over her. She wore a beautiful but well-worn blue dress, and a red cloak was draped over her shoulders. Wordlessly, she offered a hand, and Hunith took it in spite of herself. Once she was standing upright, she saw that the woman was about the same height as herself, her hair was darker, and her face a little paler, but that did not dampen her beauty. She appeared to be a little older than Hunith herself, though not by much.

"Thank goodness you both made it! I was beginning to worry my brother had found you." She spoke as though she had just run all the way to the top of the mountain and back down again, and she head dark circles under her eyes. "Here, come and sit down, you must be tired. Do you like stew?"

Hunith nodded dazedly and sat down by the fire she just now noticed in the middle of the cavern. She also noted the wolf, Cyril, yawning and tucking himself in on a fur blanket, now refusing to acknowledge her presence. While the mystery woman prepared a stew, Hunith looked around at the décor of the cavern. There were several fur blankets scattered about, like a kind of hastily made carpet of sorts, and miscellaneous trinkets, magical trinkets she could only assume, were set on any natural stone surface the woman could find. One in particular caught Hunith's eye, a wood carving of a dragon in flight, it was four inches high, and the detail on it was exceptional, but that wasn't what drew her eye. It was the same carving, she was sure of it, but how it came to be in this woman's... _cave _was beyond her.

It was just then that the woman finished making stew, and deposited a wooden bowl of it in Hunith's lap. For a while, neither of them said anything, too consumed with devouring their food. Hunith hadn't realized how hungry she was until that stew was planted in front of her, now that she thought of it, she hadn't eaten since this morning's porridge! Once finished savoring each bite Hunith could muster, she opened her mouth to speak, then realized she couldn't figure what to say. To be honest, so many things about this situation were confusing that she was unable to pick out a question to ask first. _Who are you? Why am I here? Why does that wolf talk? Am I going insane? Where did you learn to make this delicious stew? _

"I understand why you are troubled."

Hunith looked at her host, who was staring at her features intently, and Hunith was struck with a sense familiarity, for some reason, this woman reminded her of Balinor.

"Yes, well, I don't. I don't understand a thing about this whole mess. What does this have to do with Balinor? What does it have to do with Merlin?  
>How do you even-?"<p>

Hunith stopped when the woman held up a hand.

"I will explain everything by nightfall, I give you my word. But first, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Aneira, daughter of Felina and Darren, and, as I understand it, your sister in law."

"What do you mean?" Hunith asked slowly. Those names also sounded familiar, but she just couldn't place them.

"Your lover, Balinor. He was... _is_... my younger brother." There was a heavy silence after those words, broken only by the nonchalant snores of Cyril. Now that Hunith thought about it, she could faintly remember Balinor once telling her about his family. But it had been a sore topic for him, and Hunith never found out why because of his untimely departure from Ealdor. Perhaps if Uther's men hadn't found him that day, she would have learned why, but that was only wishful thinking, there were so many things that would've been different if Balinor hadn't left her. This was just another thing added to the list.

"You mean to say, you... we're...?" _family?_Hunith wanted to say.

Aneira smiled and nodded. "Yes, Hunith. Balinor and I grew up together. Oh, he was such a troublemaker! Always getting into quarrels and putting frogs on the elder's chairs. Oh, I remember how much trouble he got into when he stole our father's swords and almost cut his own hand off. Father had never been so angry... But I'm rambling now!"

"No, please, continue." Hunith murmured. She had just learned more about Balinor in the past five seconds than she had in the last twenty years.

"I'll share stories later, but for now we must discuss more important things. I'm sure Cyril told you about the man after you and your son?"

"Just briefly. He said he was very powerful..."

"Yes, yes he is. Unfortunately, he is also my brother."

Hunith's brow furrowed. "What? Balinor?"

"No, no, no, no, not Balinor. Good Goddesses, no! I mean my other brother, his name is Zekeil."

"Zekeil...?" Hunith said the name out loud, just to feel the way it sounded on her lips, she didn't like it. "Why would your brother be after my son, his nephew?"

Aneira's face went cold. "Zekeil no longer recognizes family ties, he hardly even recognizes his own humanity. As far as I am concerned, as far _you _are concerned, he is not family at all."

Hunith swallowed. The way Aneira spoke about Zekeil suggested that she had a much greater dislike for him then she had let on. But that still didn't answer her question.

"But, why exactly does he want Merlin?"

Aneira sighed, and threw a glance at where Cyril lie, now fully awake and watching the exchange avidly. "Do you know who your son is? What the Druids and the Wiccans call him?"

Hunith thought a bit, and shook her head. She hadn't even seen or heard of a Wiccan before, and it had been so long since she met a Druid that she couldn't begin to guess who they thought Merlin was.

"Emrys."

"What... What does that mean?"

Cyril made a noise that sounded like disbelief. _"You mean to say you've never heard of the name, Emrys? What exactly _do _you know?" _

"Cyril!" Aneira snapped.

_"Right, forgive me. Sometimes I forget how much has changed since the Great Purge." _He paused to give a yawn that may have been derisive, and Hunith had to make an effort not to make a comment about his rudeness. _"Emrys... Back before the Purge, he was no more than a myth. An abstract being, foretold in the Hall of Prophecy, and in the same prophecies that the Druids and Wiccans know so well. According to those prophecies, he is meant to be the most powerful wizard to ever live."_

Hunith stared blankly at Cyril, then looked at Aneira for confirmation. When she nodded, all Hunith could do was clutch at the folds of her dress and try to let the information sink in. She had always known her son was special, but this... this was too much. Without her consent, her mind flashed back to all those times Merlin had surprised with his magic in Ealdor as a child. She remembered him running into the house clutching a satchel full of corn ears in the middle of winter, stating proudly that he had made a whole stalk pop right up out of the ground. She remembered the day he fell into the creek during a storm and hit his head in the wild waters, after a few hours of sitting with his unconscious form in the house, he woke up with naught a scratch. She had always thought that other children like Merlin had strange experiences like these too, but now it appeared that there were no other children like Merlin.

Yet... "How do _you _know who my son is, when I do not? How can your brother know? Why should I trust you?"

Cyril looked pointedly at Aneira, with a little sadness, and what may have been a trace of guilt in his eyes.

"A long time ago, when I was just a girl, I discovered a strange, wondrous room on the Isle of the Blessed. In the room, I saw many prophecies and paintings, but I also found family trees. _My _family tree, and I suppose yours now as well. At the very bottom of the tree, I saw my brother's name, and yours, Hunith, connected and below it, the name _Merlin Emrys_. It was only after I left that I found out it was the Hall of Prophecy."

"Unfortunately, a few months ago, my brother found out that I had once visited the Hall, and he found me, demanding that I tell him the whereabouts of your son. I refused, and I paid dearly." Aneira studied her hands, sorrow creeping over her face. "Zekeil drove me and my daughters out of our homeland, and I have been running ever since."

"Daughters?" Hunith asked. But Aneira gave her a look that said _I'll tell you later._

"It wasn't until two weeks ago that he finally caught up with me. I... I tried my best not to tell him, but his... methods are just too strong. I didn't hold out for long. Luckily, Cyril came to me before I could tell him where Emrys was, but he was too late to stop him from learning _who _he was. That's why he has come after you now, because he thinks that you know where he is."

She looked up at Hunith again, and Hunith tried not to acknowledge the tears forming at the edge of her eyes. She could not imagine having someone as close as a brother to her torturing her and who knows what else he had done to Aneira. Yes, Hunith believed her, every word. She prided herself on being able to accurately judge the characters of others, and Aneira's seemed nothing but true and strong, not that different to Balinor's.

"Do you know where he is?"

Hunith almost bristled. "Of course I know where he is, he's in Camelot."

A moment of silence, then...

_"What?" _Cyril said.

"Merlin has been living in Camelot for the better part of the last five years now." Hunith clarified. "He's the personal manservant to the king, though according to his last letter I think he's gotten a new title... The Royal Advisor? Yes, that's it. I-"

"Letter?" Aneira asked, with a scared look on her face. "You mean he's been writing to you?"

"Well, of course he's been writing to me, I'm his mother." Her confusion deepened when Aneira and Cyril exchanged looks of panic.

_"These... letters. Do you keep them somewhere?" _Cyril asked.

"Well, yes, in my … Oh no." Hunith now understood. If Zekeil knew where she lived and found her not there, he would of course look through her things. If he found the letters she kept under the floorboard in her home, he would know where Merlin was.

"They're in my house!" Hunith stood up and walked to the cave entrance, only to be yanked back by a pair of jaws. Cyril had grabbed a fold of her dress with his teeth and was forcibly dragging her back to the fire.

_"Sit down, Hunith! You have to stay here, or else the _veil _won't be able to hide you!" _he said.

"But-!"

"Hunith! It's alright! We'll take care of it." Aneira said, as Cyril triumphantly set Hunith back down on the wooden seat. "Cyril and I will go back to Ealdor and-"

_"No." _Cyril said. _"_I'll _go back to Ealdor. You both need to stay here. No, Aneira!" _Cyril snapped as Aneira began to protest. _"You're no use to anyone dead." _

"But neither are you, Cyril!"

_"Aneira, I can promise you Zekeil won't get the best of me. I've faced him how many times now?" _

"You only got out of those on sheer luck. Our power is greatest when we're together! You need me with you!" A trail of anguish passed over her cheek, Hunith realized that the connection between Aneira and Cyril was greater than she had formerly assumed.

"_Stay with Hunith, Aneira. There is still much that she has yet to learn. Don't worry, I think that you will find yourself needed in Camelot sooner than you think." _With that, Cyril bounded into the wide wilderness and vanished the same way he had done to get Hunith here.

Aneira looked like she wanted to scream, Hunith almost felt the same way.

"I'm sorry." she said finally.

Aneira looked at her incredulously. "Whatever for?"

"I should've remembered the letters sooner."

Aneira shook her head. "No, it's my fault. I should have assumed that you would keep something of your son's in your house. It was silly of me not to. Besides, you had no way of knowing that they were a danger."

They both looked at the mountain scenery outside. The storm that had begun in Ealdor was spreading, storm clouds hung ominously overhead, threatening thunder and rain on their mountain home below. The animals were retreating to their dens, and the birds in the sky were diving desperately for some food before the storm could prevent them.

"What exactly will happen, if Zekeil finds Merlin?" Hunith asked.

Aneira eyed the storm clouds with a confident stare, like she was daring them to start dumping rain and lightning on the landscape, and see what her wrath would be. Then her face darkened.

"You don't want to know, Hunith, you don't want to know."

* * *

><p>Cyril was hunting.<p>

Not for deer, not for squirrels, not even for pheasants, his favorite snack, he was hunting for Zekeil, or as he liked to refer to him, Olcan. He was in the midst of a tempest that had settled around Eadlor. Bales of carefully stacked hay were tumbling about the village, and some straggling men and children were tying a stack down in the vain hope that it would keep it from blowing away. Cyril wished they would hurry up and go inside like the rest had done, if they saw a big wolf running around they were all going to panic and may even send a hunting party for him after the storm, and Cyril had too many _important _things to deal with then shake off a band of paranoid humans.

He had stationed himself on the edges of the forest, hidden in the greenery. So far, there had been no sign of Zekeil, which either meant he had already found the letters or had yet to come. Cyril hoped it was the latter. After what seemed like an eternity, the humans finally went inside to shelter from the storm, and Cyril made his move. For a human, it would be impossible to navigate their way through the biting torrents of rain and wind, but for Cyril, it was child's play, he was like a silver breeze winding it's way through the storm. Deftly avoiding a bale of hay that tomahawked over his head, Cyril sniffed the air for the scent of Hunith. Luckily there was faint trace of it in the wind, and he made his way towards it, and soon he saw a little shack like the ones next to it. Only this one had it's door opened, flapping insanely on it's hinges.

That couldn't be a good sign.

Now standing in the doorway, Cyril sniffed again, now he could catch three sccents, two of which were familiar. The first he recognized was Hunith's, it was sweet and left a warm feeling on his nostrils. The second, was one he didn't know, but he could only guess that the warm, almost burning scent that was similar to Hunith's belonged to her son, Emrys. The third was the strongest one here, and it was not all welcome to Cyril's nose, it smelled of blood and faintest touch of cold stone, the scent of Olcan. He had been here.

Cyril growled and poked his head into the house, the scent became a lot stronger, and the wolf's hackles began to rise, perhaps he was still here. A scuffle that made his ears twitch east confirmed his theory, and as he turned, he saw a figure with it's back to him leaning over something on the ground. Hunith had said that the letters were somewhere in her house, and it looked as though Olcan had found them. _No!_

Cyril must have done something to alert his presence because next moment Olcan was facing him with a leering snarl. His face was still scarred from when Cyril raked his teeth across it when he rescued Aneira from him, though Cyril doubted it would stay that way for long.

"Come to play, little pup?"

Cyril snarled, showing his fangs, and was satisfied when Olcan's leer weakened, he obviously still remembered the feel of those fangs tearing at his face. His right hand contracted into a fist, and Cyril saw the letters Hunith must have been talking about crumple in it's grasp.

The wolf leaped at Olcan like a falcon descends on it's prey, he placed all four paws on his chest and nipped at his neck, drawing blood, before Olcan fell backwards and Cyril rolled over him, landing gracefully on his feet facing his adversary. Olcan didn't even need to look up, he sent Cyril flying backwards into the wall, knocking over a table as he did so.

Cyril had no choice but to lie still while he tried to regain his breath that had been knocked out of him while Olcan spoke.

"The only reason you are still alive, familiar, is because I have more pressing matters to deal with. But I promise you, once I have the power of Emrys, I fully intend to make some_ painfully_ delicious wolf stew."

The following rush of wind afterward told Cyril that Olcan had teleported away. But this wasn't over, not in the slightest, despite what Olcan seemed to think, Cyril had more than one trick under his paw.

He ran outside, but instead of going into the forest, he headed for the plains to the west, he was going to call some old friends.

There were many wolf packs in Albion, but only a select few were called Druids. The Druid wolves were very different to the human Druids, the most outstanding (besides the difference in species) being that they had no great qualms about fighting. The wolves would be able to help Cyril fight against Olcan, and he knew they wouldn't hesitate. The name, Olcan, meant _evil _in the old Wolf Tongue, and it was the Druid's sacred duty to fight against anything evil, effectively putting Olcan at the top of the list. The fact that the Druids could also use magic was helpful as well, even if it wasn't nearly as strong as human magic, or Olcan's for that matter. Their numbers would make up for that, as far as Cyril knew, the pack in Escetia alone had at least thirty members, all he had to do was call them.

They came in less than half an hour. Despite the storm, it seemed that they had been out hunting, these wolves surely were strong. The leader of the pack stepped forward, scrutinizing Cyril with a regal golden eye. Her coat was whiter than snow, almost ethereal, and her slender form only disguised the underlying strength in those skillfully carved muscles. On her forehead, a silver mark stood out, demanding the eye's attention, the triskellion, the mark of the Druids.

"Why have you called us, familiar?" she spoke in Wolf Tongue.

"I have need of your assistance, Argida. Albion has need of your assistance." Cyril answered in kind.

Argida tilted her head, and it was impossible to judge her expression. Most pack leaders would be angered at being addressed by their name rather than their status, but sometimes the case was different when it came to familiars.

"What threat troubles you so?" she said, always keeping a neutral tone, but the wolves behind her, all bearing the triskellion, shifted and murmured restlessly to one another.

"I fear that Olcan has returned to Albion." There was a uproar among the pack, but Argida remained stoic. "I have seen him, you can still smell his blood on my breath from when I attacked him mere minutes ago. He intends to find Emrys." The uproar increased in volume. There were definite notes of fear in some of the voices, but most were skeptic, or angered by Cyril's words.

A wave of Argida's tail inspired silence in the pack, and she spoke again.

"I do indeed smell the proof on your breath, but don't compare the god of evil with the scent of man." she stated.

"Olcan has joined with the soul of my charge's brother Zekeil in his body." Cyril explained, hoping that she would hear the sincerity in his voice. "He has already tasted victims in this world, one being my charge's son. And now, I tell you, he heads to Camelot to take Emrys' magic as well, I would not come to you on a false whim!"

Another uproar began, and it took a few minutes for Argida to silence this one. At long last, she was showing some emotion on her face, she was angry at something, whether that was her pack, Cyril, or Olcan, Cyril didn't know.

"My pack will follow you, familiar. Lead us to him!"

Cyril had not expected her decision to be so sudden, but he wasn't complaining. With a howl, he turned tail and ran to Camelot, the Druids following close behind. Argida ran alongside him.

"Familiar, I can tell you have many words to share on the matter of Olcan, my pack and I need to know as much as we can before facing him."

Cyril looked at the Druid, and saw determination and sincerity in her gaze.

"Of course, Argida, I will tell you all I know. And you may call me Cyril, if you so wish." Argida said nothing. "First, and most importantly, Olcan is strong, stronger than all of us combined I fear. But if we can attack him without..."

* * *

><p>Zekeil was waiting.<p>

He was in the Forest of Ascetir, sensing the goings on of Camelot via his magic. Women were flocking to salesmen with new fabrics, children were playing with wooden swords in the streets, and knights were training in the field to the east, but Zekeil had yet to find Emrys.

Well, according to the letters, he was _Merlin_, but Zekeil could care less. All he needed was to take him, and he would finally be free. Free to be himself again, to have his _real _body back, and then he would be able to enter the Divine Plane, and show those bastards the power of Zekeil.

Or was it Satan? Olcan? Kisin? He couldn't remember. Maybe when he became a god again he would be able to recall it, but until then, he would be Zekeil. Zekeil the conqueror of the gods, the defeater of Emrys, the ruler of the world.

_Perhaps a little too cliché. _A voice in the back of his head told him, and Zekeil chuckled. Cliché it may be, but no one would be thinking that as he slew the gods one by one.

Zekeil often thought about his life, his former life as a human, before he came upon the divine being in the wilderness all those years ago, in comparison to his life now. He knew something had changed in him somewhere in between, but he couldn't place what it was. So blended the memories of him and the god in him had become that he couldn't distinguish between the two, often he forgot there even _was _a difference. He knew that he had two siblings, a father named Darren and a mother named Felina, and yet he also didn't, he also had two nieces and now one nephew, and yet he didn't. But he didn't know why, he didn't really care either, all that mattered was getting what he needed.

He heard a howl in the distance, and he thought of of his sister's familiar, Cyril he thought. He was extremely annoying, yes that was it, definitely, irrevocably _annoying. _The scar on his face tingled, and began to heal without even having to think about it. He had meant what he said back in the village, once this was all over, he was going to make that wolf wish he had _never been born. _

Another howl sounded from behind him, closer this time. Zekeil began to wonder if the wolf was actually chasing him, he was stupider than he thought! That was when a great furry something tackled him from behind, and after Zekeil felt something sharp pierce his stomach, it rolled off him and ran away. He got a glimpse of a white wolf's tail disappearing into the trees, but before he could do anything, another force rammed into him and bit his hand. That one dashed away too, but it never reached the cover of the trees. It's gray form smashed into an oak, but it's body never reached the ground, for it had been pierced through with a broken branch. It struggled for a bit, then it went limp, blood dripping from it's wound. Another wolf bounded from the trees snarling for vengeance, and the white one returned from the opposite direction. Zekeil stood up again, and with a yell created a whirlwind around him, preventing the wolves from coming any closer than a few feet. Many more prowled around him, looking for an opening, and while Zekeil looked at a brownish colored wolf, he saw the triskellion burning on it's fur, these were _Druids. _

Usually theses wolves kept to themselves, and much less did they stray so close to Camelot, for fear of being hunted and killed by Uther. The only humans they ever made contact with were the Druid Tribes, and only a select few at that, because suffice to say, most humans don't get along well with wolves. So why would they be attacking him at such a great risk to themselves?

_"Are you ready to play, Olcan?" _

It was Cyril! He was the leader of the ambush. Zekeil now saw his gray and white form staring with patronizing amusement from the forefront of the pack.

"I will grind your organs into sausages you insolent dog!" Zekeil snarled, with every intention of fulfillment.

_"Not before you feel some _real _pain." _The wolf responded. He stopped circling and raised his head to look at the sky. Once he began to howl, the rest of the pack joined in, and Zekeil couldn't help but shiver. The note was infused with magic, and it was making his insides tremble with hunger, but he didn't have time to be draining useless dogs, he had to get Emrys first. He couldn't fantasize about that for long though, because their wordless spell was breaking his whirlwind apart. In another few seconds, it dissipated entirely, leaving Zekeil vulnerable. Or so they thought.

The white wolf was the first to attack, she propelled herself forward with her hind legs and made to bite Zekeil's remaining right hand off, but he swatted her away with a quick spell. However, three other wolves had simultaneously launched an attack as well, when Zekeil made to hit the brown one, it feinted and rolled away just in time for the other two to knock him over while he was distracted. After that, it continued much in the same way. Wolves were masters of stamina and strategy, they treated Zekeil like he was a big, magic bear that they were trying to scare off for a bit of food. It would not have been so difficult if there weren't quite so many of them, but there were.

They came one after the other, even Cyril threw in a few blows, and after almost an hour of fighting Zekeil was beginning to tire, much to his surprise and revulsion. He would not be beaten by a bunch of scraggly mutts! But it seemed nature had other plans, Zekeil was realizing that he may not be able to win this battle, not without some extra help. That's when it hit him. Emrys would need to wait just a little while longer, after all, according to the letters to his dear mother, he was a Royal Advisor for whatever reason, he wouldn't be leaving anytime soon. The Druids would stay close to Camelot to protect Emrys, and while they stayed here, Zekeil would track down someone else to drain, once he did that, he could bypass these pests and get to his well-deserved prey. After all, if he couldn't defeat these wolves yet, how could he defeat Emrys?

He would need someone vulnerable though, powerful and vulnerable, that left out his sister then, she was in hiding after all, he could no longer reach her. But... her _daughter. _She was on the run as well, he knew, but he had been more focused on Aneira and the prospect of Emrys' magic to care, but now... Aneira's little girl was bound to have enough magic, she would if hers was anything like her brother, Tristan, which he had taken only a few years ago. But she had an older sister as well, the one without magic he noted with derision, but she was skillful and strong, just like her mother, she would not surrender her sister in any event. Well, he would just need to separate them then, wouldn't he?

All this came to him in a few seconds, the mind of a god was useful indeed. He built up a burst of magic and then let it loose, throwing all of the attackers backwards by ten feet. He spotted Cyril and smiled.

_"Thank you, Cyril," _he said telepathically so no one else could hear. _"For helping me see my mistake. We'll see each other again, no doubt. Just after another family member of yours is drained."_

He said the spell, and he was taken away in a gust of wind, last seeing with satisfaction the horror-stricken face of Cyril.

**(Im so happy I finally discovered the _vertical line button_. All of my other dividers were being obliterated so you couldnt tell where it was.)**

**Wow! That took FOREVER! Im so tired I can barely look at the screen, it's like 12 pm! But therre it is, its done! Now, at last, I can actually move FORWARD in time, as opposed to BACKWARDs. I just felt I needed to explain some plotholes I saw in my work when it came to Zekeil and his approach to everything. So... Didn't expect THAT did ya? Huh? Huh? What do you think of Zekeil being a god? Huh? Huh? What? Too Percy Jacksony? I have no idea what you're talking about. Anyway, I know there was never going to be a god on the actual show, but I just thought it would be TOTALLY EPIC! So I had to make it, and I just love being able to share my delusional fantasy world with all of you guys! That's what writers do, huh? *yawns* Well. Happy Reading! And Goodnight!**

**Turns off laptop.**

**...**

**Turns back on.**

**...**

**AND DON'T FORGET TO REVIEW! **

**Turns laptop off again...**

…

**then back on.**

**Seriously, do NOT ever... ever... EVER choose to start writing at nighttime, you will never be able to stop and you will likely spend the following day sleeping through all your classes and consequentially failing all of your tests and thus ruining your chances of a future career that doesn't have to do with fanfiction. On that note, HAPPY VALENTINES DAY EVERYONE! **

**Turns laptop off and hides it under bed so cant get it out again.**

**LOVE YA'LL!**


	6. A Familiar Game

**So Happy! *Laughs madly and dances.* Look what I found! **

Tobystrong Off to play with magic wolves for 'merlin' in Wales tomorrow. Very exciting [**Info:** Toby Strong is a cameraman (Twitter Quote)

**HahAhahahaAAAA! MAGIC WOLVES! YES! *Dances some more* I am dead on! Hahahaha! OK well probably not, the wolves will likely be bad not good for Merlin but still! At last there are wolves! Any story with wolves and magic involved screams "I AM AWESOME!" to me. I love the show even more! Yippee!**

**OK, now that my insane spree is done, let's get on with the fanfic. If you feel the need, you may put me in the stocks and throw tomatoes at my head because I have been really lazy with my updates. But fear not, readers! I will finish this fic unto the end! Now, at last, we are back in Camelot with Kaia, code name Raven, and Merlin.**

**For those who are confused with my time-line, I'll clarify where we are and what has happened.**

**RECAP: Hunith and Aneira have been hiding in the mountains for a little less than a month, and Cyril and the Druid wolves have been guarding Merlin from Zekeil in secret. It is one day before Zekeil gets Ava. She is in captivity of the bandits right now . As of now, Kaia has just beat Arthur in a duel and is awaiting the 70 gold pieces prize money. **

**Chapter Six**

**A Familiar Game**

Kaia was waiting.

She sat on an old rickety stool in the corner of her lodgings at the tavern, sharpening her swords and seemingly analyzing the adjacent wall with intense scrutiny. She was supposed to be thinking about back-up plans to rescue Ava in case she didn't win the tournament, but instead her thoughts kept drifting back to that strange character that was named Merlin.

She had learned from the bartender downstairs that he was the king's Royal Advisor, which was surprising since he didn't exactly seem like 'Royal Advisor' material. By talking to the bartender in the down-stairs room filled with unconscious men, she also salvaged that he had been, until very recently, the same king's manservant. When she had commented that that was a very big leap, the bartender laughed and heartily agreed; while mysteriously adding that there was more to the man than meets the eye (all the while giving her a wary stare like he thought she was going to knife him). Back in the training field, she had not so subtly given Merlin a hard time. How could she resist? The guy was terrified of her! But then when Kaia had the king pinned on the ground, with her swords under his chin, she had noticed something unexpected leap up from the eyes of Merlin; like a lioness protecting her cubs, or a brother defending a brother. He had been ready to fight her to save the life of his king, and she suspected it would not have been the first time he'd done so.

She was extremely perceptive when it came to reading expressions and emotions, a talent her mother thought she had inherited from her, but this time she had been unintentionally fooled. The look in his eyes in that moment had startled Kaia, who had adjusted to the timid, awkward soul who didn't have a clue. Now she knew that was just the limpid exterior. There was definitely something more powerful, perhaps even_ sinister_, lying underneath that cream-colored skin that even the locals didn't seem to notice. But then, not many of them had come as close as she did to harming the king of Camelot.

Kaia didn't quite know what to make of the king either. She knew who he was; the son of Uther Pendragon, who killed thousands of her people, even some of her very family, on the notion that the Old Religion was _evil. _All because his wife had been 'wickedly murdered' because of a deal he made with the sorceress, Nimueh. This was information that a very few people were privy to, Kaia only knew because of her mother, who always seemed to have a new interesting part of her life to share. Her mother told her that Nimueh was a fickle woman; one minute she would deliver freshly baked biscuits to your doorstep and the next she would be plotting some scheme to ruin your entire reputation. Which was why uneasy breezes swept through the ranks of magic-users when Nimueh began paying frequent visits to Camelot. It was only until it was too late that they realized they should have intervened in her exploits. She made a deal with Uther, to give him an heir through the other-wise barren Igraine; he knew the price as well, a life for a life, but Nimueh did not tell him she intended Igraine to be the price. The Old Religion did not distinguish between good and evil, it only focused on the balance of all things, including life and death. If Uther was to have a son, someone equally important to him would have to be taken from him. Once the deal was completed, Uther's already misguided mind was hardened against magic forever. Thus the Great Purge began.

Uther's tyranny had left a stain on his heir, who viewed magic in the same sense his father did, and everyone in the Outer Lands viewed him in same way as they did his father. A budding tyrant, already a ruthless killer of Druids, witches, wizards, and warlocks alike. Now, Kaia had the fortune of meeting this feared figure told of around a campfire like he was a monstrous beast that would eat children in their sleep. She supposed her impression of him was a _tad _bit biased.

Her dislike for him only increased by the way he immediately looked down on her because she was a woman. The nerve! So, naturally, Kaia decided to call him out on it, in front of all of his knights too; the dumb king deserved it anyway. More importantly, she wanted to save up as much gold as she could in case she didn't win the tournament. What took her by surprise was what he did after the fight. In all her life, she had never heard of a king in Albion accepting defeat so honorably, especially not to a woman, and especially not in front of his subjects. But King Arthur had done it, albeit reluctantly, but Kaia had seen the true extent to how seriously he took his honor. After the fight, she and him had a tensely polite conversation. Arthur wanted to know more about her. Did she live in Camelot? How did she hear about the tournament? Parents, siblings, relatives? Kaia remained stubbornly secretive. There was no way after at least two decades of staying safe from Camelot's forces that Kaia was going to reveal _anything _about her true life. Given her heritage, if these people found out anything about her, much more so the king, she would be arrested and killed before she could say, "Oops."

After that, they had separated to different parts of the training field. Arthur choosing to try and demolish a training dummy, and Kaia practicing her knife-throwing. She had two small daggers on her person at all times, keeping one in each boot, just in case she needed to make a wild throw. After getting nineteen bull's-eyes in a row, Kaia concluded that her knife-throwing was pretty sharp, (so to speak), at least well enough for the fight tomorrow. Later, during the meeting, all the competitors were briefed on the nature of the tournament, the newly named _Annual _Tournament as opposed to the _Decennial _Tournament. Kaia noticed with faint amusement that the Royal Advisor made a face (a childish one too!) while the king explained this. Given his protectiveness of the king, Merlin couldn't be happy that there was now going to be a yearly event that was sure to try and get Arthur killed.

Merlin was coming to deliver the money from the fight soon. In fact, he should have been here by now...

Kaia's head snapped to the side upon hearing a distinct crash from below. Peering out the window overlooking the street, she snickered when she spotted Merlin desperately apologizing to a merchant after apparently falling into his merchandise, now scattered all over the ground. The merchant himself didn't seem angry, only resigned as though his merchandise was thrown all over the place on a daily basis. Merlin tried to help clean up, but after only succeeding in toppling another fixture, the merchant all but shoved him away.

So it was that a minute later, a red-faced "Royal" Advisor knocked on Kaia's door, looking almost as flustered as he had the first time he did that day.

"Hello, Raven. I've brought you your winnings. Seventy gold pieces." He proclaimed unnecessarily, holding out a bulging brown sack for her to see.

"Thank you, Merlin. You can leave it there." She gestured at the corner where her scant belongings were. She had discarded her blades next to a bag full of her extra clothing, food, and money. She still wore her armor though, she hardly ever took it off seeing as it was more comfortable than most armor and she never knew when she would need it in a fight.

Walking nonchalantly back to her chair by the window, she said, "So how's His Majesty taking his defeat? I bet he's sitting in his room moping right about now."

"Not... really..." Merlin said, depositing the gold in the corner. Kaia's head was facing the window, so she couldn't see him. "I mean, he's not as... unfriendly about it as he was the last time..."

"Last time?" Kaia asked, turning back to him. She glared pointedly at Merlin's hand, about to rifle through her things by the looks of I; he was seriously _way _too nosy for his own good; and he withdrew it quickly.

"Yes, he uh... he had to fight a swords-woman before, and he lost. He was humiliated. It was even worse because his father, people, and friends all saw it in the arena, he felt he had disappointed everyone. In the end, he was convinced she used magic to defeat him once he learned she was a witch, but I know she didn't because-" he broke off, looking shocked by something.

"Yes?" Kaia said, her sense for expression alert. He looked like he had said too much about... something.

"Erm... I just..."

"Very secretive aren't we, Merlin?"

"I could say the same thing about you, Raven."

They both stared at each other, apparently sizing the other up. Then the moment was broken with a sneeze from Merlin.

"Sorry." He said, wiping his nose, "Not the best place to stay is it?"

"It'll do." Kaia said. The sun rays were piercing the air in the room, heating it up, so she took off her gloves. Black really was a tedious color in this weather, maybe she should switch to white, or blue. "I'm not staying here permanently anyway."

"If you don't mind my asking," that meant she probably _would _mind his asking... "Why are you competing in this tournament?"

Kaia looked him in the eye. "It's not to kill your king, if that's what you mean." She smirked as Merlin's face went shocked, _again. _"Oh, Merlin... I saw you go all body guard in the training field, and I have to say, it's almost sweet of you!"

"Well..."

"Almost." Kaia clarified. She liked Merlin, and she felt bad about degrading him, but she could not ignore who he was and what he did. If he was the Royal Advisor of Camelot, his views on magic could not be far off from Arthur's, his friendship with him only made that more clear. As much as she enjoyed Merlin's clumsiness and kindness, there were some things she could not forgive, or overlook.

While Merlin continued to look confused, Kaia bent and unlaced her boots, it was almost time to turn in. She was the one to be surprised when Merlin's pale hand grasped hers, and with a jolt she saw why. The tattoo, for the Goddesses sake he had seen her tattoo! It was a star with a circle around it, drawn in silver ink that had faded to black a while ago.

"Isn't that a Pentacle?" he asked.

Kaia, for once dumbstruck at his words, nodded. How on earth did he know what a Pentacle was? It was only known among people who studied magic, or at least lived around it like Kaia had.

"That's a symbol in the Old Religion." he stated. "Why do _you _have it?"

"Why do you care? Do you think I'll sprout a pointy green nose and warts and start attacking people?" Kaia retorted.

Merlin smiled mischievously. "I don't know, will you?"

Kaia yanked her hand away and stood up abruptly. "What is your angle here? What are you trying to do?"

"I just think it's dangerous to be going around Camelot with that symbol on your hand, people might start asking questions."

"Like you, you mean?" Kaia asked.

Merlin looked down.

"I just don't understand you." She let that statement hang for a bit. "First you are a messenger. Then you are a servant who turned into a _Royal Advisor._ And now you're acting like Camelot's local detective, and I still don't whose side you're on." Merlin opened his mouth but Kaia was still on a rant. "You are the king's friend and Advisor, the king who hates magic, but you know all about it don't you? You have to, only someone who studied it would know about Pentacles. You act like you want to help me, but that's not it at all, not really. You're trying to fathom me out, but you know what? That isn't going to happen, because yes, I freely admit, I have secrets, but I'm not about to let _you _in on them."

"Raven!" Merlin said, hands in the air. "Alright! Okay, I... am... sorry." He said slowly. "I didn't mean to cause any offense, I just-"

"I know!" Kaia said. "You just want to know whether I am a threat. Fine. That is your job... sort of." In truth, it wasn't his job at all, but he sure took it more seriously than who actually had the job. "I will tell you again, I am not about to kill your king. I admit, I don't like him in the least, but I have more important things to deal with. Besides, what have I to gain from killing him? It would only make things more complicated than they already are."

She could tell that Merlin was still engrossed in questions about her, he wanted to know _exactly _what was so complicated, but he was also sated that she didn't want to harm Arthur.

"Why am I in the tournament? Clear and simply? _I need the money. _That's all."

Now they looked at each other in silence again, the setting sun casting red and lavender glows over the city, awashing the walls in an evening light. Merlin looked like a chastised child, and Kaia was happy at that. Maybe he'd learn to be less nosy in the future. Another minute and the sunset was a dark violet red.

"I'm sorry, Raven. Truly. But thank you, for being honest. I know as well as anyone what it's like to keep important secrets, and I do apologize for trying to violate yours. I know now that you are not an enemy of mine," _That remains to be seen on my part... _"In fact, maybe, if we could trust each other more, we could be friends."

Kaia smiled sadly, "I don't think friends can have secrets as big as these Merlin." She was referring to her own secrets, a mad uncle out for her sister's blood, a hidden land where magic was free, a whole world few knew about anymore. But her words had an effect on Merlin, he looked... guilty, uncertain.

"I think it's time we turn in. It has been a long day." she said.

"Yes, yes it has." Merlin agreed readily to change the subject. "I wish you luck tomorrow morning, I hope you find whatever you're looking for."

"I told you what I was looking for, I need the money."

Merlin stared at her with a knowing look. "Yes, but for what?"

Kaia shook her head. "Good night, Merlin!" He left the room, leaving her alone at last.

_We could be friends. _

What an odd thing to say about someone he only just met. But even more strangely, Kaia could see why he had said that. She felt somehow connected to him, his naivety was endearing, it reminded her of Ava. Just like his eyes did. True, he wasn't exactly _naive_ if he knew about pentacles and was an Advisor, but to ask a girl he didn't even know to be friends with him... That sort of kindness was something you would only see in a child in these times. But perhaps he felt the same connection as she did, like a weak instinct arising in the pit of her stomach, telling her that he was important.

Even so, like she said, she had more important things to worry about. She_ knew_ Ava was important, and she had to save her, no matter what. She knew if it came down to it, she would do anything do get her back, and Merlin's importance was pale in comparison to that fact.

* * *

><p>This was it. The first day of the tournament. The first step to getting her sister back. She would need to be perfect, no mistakes, no stumbles, no misjudges, <em>nothing. <em>She had let Tristan down once, and that had been his death, the most horrible death she could imagine... a death that still haunted her. She would not let that happen again.

She stood silently, a stoic look slapped on her face, at the entrance to the arena. The wooden gate, waist-high, stood between her and the first fight. The crowds were already roaring with anticipation, thirsty for blood, it was almost frightening how their mood changed so quickly when fighting came into play. She wondered how often these tournaments occurred in this city for the people to be so excited about them. Briefly, she flashed back to the duels in the Outer Lands. Magic duels could be as hilarious as they were violent; most of the ones Kaia saw were hilarious, just for fun, but some duels, they were serious, very serious.

_No. _Kaia thought. _No time for that now._

Now was the time to focus on, the past was the past, and the future depended on her in the present.

A horn blew, and the gates swung forward. She walked into the sandy arena, eyes narrowed on the faceless knight that she would fight. He cockily swung his sword, not phased at all by Kaia's appearance or gender. She would change that, her sister depended on it. An announcement was made, but Kaia only listened for one word...

"-_begin!_"

The knight immediately swung his sword at her torso, but Kaia jumped back and rolled to the side.

Her blades at the ready, she feinted at the knight's helmet, and when he made to block the blow she kicked him in the gut.

The hilt of her blade hit the side of his head, and she slashed at his arm with the other.

He dodged and tried to punch her, but she whacked his arm aside with the force of a griffin.

She followed up with a punch to his collarbone, and kicked him in the stomach again.

This would be fun if the odds weren't so high.

Groaning, the knight staggered away from her assault, fumbled with the helmet and took it off, and Kaia allowed herself a split second to take in his looks.

Pale blue eyes stared wearily at her, his oval face was coated in sweat that glinted in the sunlight. His light brown hair was close-cropped, hardly reaching the top of his ears, his beard was of the same style. Overall, he wasn't that bad in looks. The split second ended there and Kaia was attacking him with all she had.

She threw a hard blow at his stomach, but he parried it and came back with a jab at her shoulder.

_Ow!_

Blood, she was bleeding. Time to end this, now!

She pulled the whirlwind technique, deadly and effective. She swung the blades in a way that would seem random and desperate, but in reality a practiced skill.

The blows came one after the other. Shoulder, gut, leg, cheek, left, right... All in a few seconds of swirling black metal.

Soon she disarmed her adversary. She claimed victory by placing the tips of her blades under his chin.

The stands were subdued, shocked for a moment, then their roaring began again. She nodded to the knight, and withdrew her blades. She did not need to kill this man, she only needed to win, besides, he was sort of handsome in a way. An announcement was made confirming her victory, and Kaia left the arena, not sparing the knight a single glance. Today's round was done, tomorrow would be the second step to Ava.

Her shoulder was stinging, but it didn't matter, it was a superficial cut. Nothing to worry about. But there was something else to worry about. What if she didn't win? Those bandits were going to take nothing less than the prize money, they would kill Ava if they didn't get it. As much as she trusted her skills as a fighter, she wasn't willing to put that much at stake on her pride alone. She needed an alternative. She heard that there were all sorts of gambling games at The Rising Sun, perhaps she should try her hand at those. Arm wrestling she would dominate, and drinking games... maybe not practical, but they sure brought in the gold.

**Coming Next... GWAINE POV! and Gaius appears, may get a glimpse at Hunith and Aneira to see what they're up to... And what of Cyril? **

**I pretty much have the next chappy written for you, which I'm going to give to you shortly. **


	7. A Familiar Game Part Two

**Woohoo! Two chapters in as many days! But don't get used to it, it'll be at least a week until the next one comes out... **

**Can't believe I didn't say this yesterday but Happy Easter! I hope you all got wonderful goodies in your Easter baskets from Peter Cottontail! BTW, have you heard of the Cookies n Cream Hershey bar? Well, they made Cookies n Cream Hershey bunnies! They are seriously delicious and I reccomend you go to the holiday Clearance aisle and get some if u havnt already.**

**OK, so some of you may have noticed this already, but I made another error. I was doing some research, watching The Sorcerer's Shadow, and I learned that the prize isn't one THOUSAND gold coins, its one HUNDRED... IDK if thats so big that it ruined the story for you, but I wanted to apologize anyway. Again, for the plot's sake, I'm going to keep it that way, again, sorry about that. **

**Reviews are unnessacary but likely to speed up the updating process. Also they make a certain fanfic writer _very very very _happy. XD**

**Enjoy! (o : B (-Do you see the bunny?)**

**Chapter Seven**

**A Familiar Game Part Two**

**Gwaine**

Gwaine was humming.

Had he not been drunk, and been able to connect his vocal chords, ears, and mind to the tune, it would have sounded quite nice, but as this was not the case, he sounded like a drunken idiot. Which was something he was used to being.

He enjoyed being rowdy, rebellious, and the center of attention. He also enjoyed mead, beer, and wine. Mainly he enjoyed being as different from nobles as possible, and these enjoyments centered around that fact.

He was sure he was making his way to his chambers in the castle, but apparently he was making his way to the tournament. Why was he doing that? He laughed to himself, oblivious to the stares of the passerby. The tournament! _That _was why he was going to the tournament! But why did he want to see the tournament again? Since he couldn't remember he decided he should go and see why he wanted to see the tournament.

He couldn't be sure, but he thought today was the second round, the second day. He wasn't in the tournament because the dumb king had banned him because he was so drunk these days he could hardly hold a sword, and he didn't want him killed. What rubbish! He could hold a sword if he wanted to! He could probably beat Arthur right now! That was it, he was going to the tournament so he could beat Arthur. That was it...

He found a spot in the stands and looked down. _No... _That _was it._

The most beautiful creature he'd ever seen was standing there. Dressed in black leather armor, and wearing an elegant feather mask; she glared at the stands with fiery eyes like she was certain she could take out every single person there. He would gladly let her take _him _out.

He must have lapsed for a second because he next saw Raven fighting tooth and nail with a man the size of an ogre who hadn't been there before . His biceps were thrice the size of her head! Gwaine wondered how he even moved... Despite the size difference Raven was doing very well. She had no wounds, but she had certainly wounded the opponent. He was limping on his right leg, and blood trickled from a long gash in his arm.

He watched serenely for a while when he noticed something was off. He saw Raven's fight with his new friend Kay yesterday, and she had been much more focused and lethal than she was today. He saw her stumble around a few times, and her parries and swings were slower than before. No sooner had Gwaine noticed this than the ogre person swung a large mace in brutish rage. The metal hit Raven's side, who had failed to block the blow, and she grunted loudly. Gwaine stood straighter and yelled profanity at the man, luckily his words were lost amidst the roar of the crowd, otherwise both the man _and _Raven would be trying to hurt him.

Most of the rest of the fight was lost on Gwaine, who was determined on verbally assaulting the man until the day he died. But he cheered wildly when Raven triumphed, even when she was obviously drunk. He had no idea how he knew that, but he did. Being drunk was a subject he was self-taught in, and he was certain that Raven was. The ogre guy was either unconscious or dead, lying face-down in the sand, Gwaine hoped he was dead.

Once Raven left the arena, Gwaine decided to follow her. If she was drunk she would be easy to woo, plus the unconscious logical part of his mind wanted to see if she was alright. She hid her pain well, a hit like that had to have cracked a rib or more, but Raven made it look like she just had a stomach cramp. Gwaine followed her to the training grounds. What was she doing there? He watched from a distance as she tried to demolish a punching bag, sparred with the training dummy, and threw knives at the targets. All the while she made angry noises in her throat after every bout, she wasn't living up to her standards and it was making her crazy. Now maybe wasn't the best time to be confronting her, but that made it the best time for Gwaine.

He approached, as one would a bear that could turn and rip their head off if they made a mistake. Even so, he had to duck to save his head when he tapped her shoulder, and she spun around wildly.

"Whoa! Careful!"

Raven just glared at him. She obviously loved him. Who could resist handsome Gwaine?

"I saw your fight today. And I must say, you were lousy." Gwaine grinned maniacally, he loved this. It was so much fun annoying pretty women.

"Excuse me?" Raven yelled. Her face that was visible was red, and her eyes were almost crazed.

"It's alright though, I perfectly understand. I am known to get drunk and make a fool out of my self too."

"Like you are now?" She said snidely. "And I'm not drunk!"

"Now," Raven could only stare incredulously at him. "I know drunken fighting when I see it, I've done it a lot myself, so don't deny it."

"_I... Am... Not... Drunk!" _She almost shrieked.

Gwaine shook his head. "Of course not... You know, you should probably get that looked at." He said, referring to her mace wound.

She glared at him. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Really, you'll be no good if you can hardly stand!"

"Does it look like I can hardly stand?" Raven snapped.

"Look, I'm an knight-Surprising I know considering. And I know that a mace that size does serious damage. I also know that the faint numbness you're feeling will wear off once the alcohol gets out of your system. I know, I know!" He said when she opened her mouth angrily. "You're not drunk."

"I don't... need... any... help." She said firmly, turning back to the punching bag. She raised her right fist and gave the bag a good whack that would have laid Gwaine flat. Then, she promptly doubled over clutching her side, groaning angrily. Time for an intervention.

"That's it! I'm taking to the physician." He said, and without warning he picked her up marriage style and took her to Gaius' chambers. The whole time Raven fought as hard as she could to get out of his hold. She punched, kicked, squirmed, twisted, and gave him a few painful slaps too. Gwaine would forever remember this as the most difficult journey of his life. Trying to get this woman up the stairs was no picnic. Luckily at the top of those stairs was the Physician's room.

"Let go of me you ugly ass! You stupid, overfed warthog! I will hit you so hard your mother feels it you complete drunk bas-!"

"Evening, Gaius! I've brought you a present!" Gwaine shouted, bringing the struggling Raven in through the door. "Oh, hello Merlin!" He added cheerfully upon seeing him next to Gaius. Both men were staring at Gwaine and Raven with comically dumbfounded expressions. Raven stopped shouting and gaped at Merlin, face turning red. Gwaine loosened his grip and Raven used the opportunity to throw him off. She landed with a grunt on the floor, glaring at Gwaine like she wanted to run him through. She might still do that, her weapons were conveniently stored on her person. But she didn't look as willing to make a scene now that Merlin and Gaius were watching, that was funny as she hadn't cared about the dozen people who saw her on the way here.

It was Gaius who finally broke the silence. "What on _earth _is going on here?"

Gwaine smiled and turned his head to Gaius so his hair would flip around ridiculously. "Well, I just noticed this lady was in need of some assistance-"

_"I am not in any need of assistance you drunk!"_

"Look who's talking!"

_"I am not-!"_

"Hey!"

Gwaine and Raven looked at Merlin, holding his hands out cautiously. He looked like he was amused by the situation but as too polite to laugh.

"Can we just all calm down, please?"

"No!" Raven stood up, still glaring all sorts of painful deaths at Gwaine, "I will not calm down! This- This... _moron_ of a knight just dragged me here without my permission. I will not be disrespected like this!"

"Milady you're hurt! I-" Gwaine tried.

"Shut up! I am not hurt! I- ow!" All of the yelling seemed to be taking a toll on her injury, and she had to stop so she could breathe properly. There was silence while everyone looked at her, until finally Merlin spoke again.

"Raven, are you drunk?"

Gwaine sniggered at the look Raven gave him, about to scream at him, but Gaius, the voice of reason, interjected.

"All of you quiet. You're all acting like children! Tell me there is some good reason why you have come barging into my chambers!"

Raven's rage seemed quelled, even Gwaine was tactful enough to hang his head and be ashamed.

"It's Raven, she's hurt. Badly. I wondered if you could treat her." He explained. "I'm sorry to intrude." He added.

"No, really, it's nothing! Agh!" Raven clutched her side again, grimacing.

Gaius went over to her and laid his hand on her ribs, and she gasped. His eyebrows went up like they always did when something was wrong. "Apparently one or more of your ribs is broken, it'll have to be treated soon or you won't be able to walk." He stared at her. "I'm surprised you lasted this long already, didn't you say she won the battle today anyway, Merlin?"

Merlin nodded, throwing Raven a nervous glance. Gwaine wasn't sure what was going on between those two, either they hated each other or they were very good friends. Or maybe they had feelings for each other... Jealousy bloomed in his chest, then he pushed it back down. That was absurd, Merlin couldn't possibly score Raven. If he was honest, neither could Gwaine.

"See? I can fight, I don't need any treatment, it's really not that bad!" Raven said. Why was she being so stubborn?

"I can assure you that fighting against Arthur with broken ribs will guarantee defeat, milady." Gaius told her.

"I'm not a lady." she muttered, but Gaius ignored her.

"We'll have to remove some of that armor, otherwise I won't be able to reach the wound."

She nodded and took off the duo swords on her back. She did it with only a slight wince, which Gwaine was impressed by. If he hadn't known better he would think there was nothing wrong at all. Then she undid the shoulders, arms, and corset-like buckles on the front. The tunic came off like a jacket, leaving the black shirt underneath. It looked as though it had been fitted for her, which was something only noblewomen would be able to have, since primarily women wore dresses. Come to think of it, that armor, and those swords were pretty unique as well. Raven looked incomplete without her armor, less formidable if weren't for that intimidating look in her eyes and that black mask.

Gwaine, feeling he had served his purpose, thanked Gaius and excused himself. He decided to head toward the Lower Town and the tavern, where he hoped his fellow knights would be having a few drinks. He just couldn't stop thinking about Raven, and it wasn't just her looks that had him mulled. He could tell, he could just _tell _that she was more than some thief looking for extra gold. She wasn't like that, there was definitely something more...

As he was walking down the street, he couldn't help but notice that people weren't staring at him as usual, but they were staring at something. Gwaine followed their confused gazes until he spotted the source. An ordinary man walking the opposite direction from Gwaine towards the courtyard, but it was what was behind him that had people so curious. At first glance it was an ordinary dog, head down, tail low, following its master. But its silver fur, intelligent eyes, and giant paws made it look wild, _wolfish. _Who owned a dog like that? Then the man turned around to see why people were staring so intently, but the wolf-dog slunk away and tailed someone else heading the same direction. That was certainly strange... Should he be worried? No one else seemed to be, after all it was only a dog. Gwaine smiled. No... if it turns out to be a threat surely even the guards could handle a little dog. Now all Gwaine wanted to do was have a few drinks, black out, and wake up in an unfamiliar house with a terrible headache.

* * *

><p><strong>Cyril<strong>

Cyril was on a mission.

He hadn't seen Aneira or Hunith in a week, but he knew they were getting on fine. In fact, Aneira seemed happier than ever. They had shared all sorts of stories that didn't just center around Balinor; Hunith told Aneira about Emrys' childhood, and Aneira was delighted to recount her years living in Mercia as a child, learning magic, and most of all living in the Outer Lands. Cyril hadn't told Aneira about his run-in with Zekeil in great detail, he only told her that he was unable to get past the Druid wolves, and that Emrys was safe. He didn't want her to know that Zekeil was after her daughters, then she would abandon Hunith, and worse, try to fight Zekeil again. As much as Cyril would love to let Aneira loose and rip that evil... _thing _to pieces, he wouldn't risk her safety, it was his job to protect her.

When he was first born, he had no idea he was a familiar. He was just an ordinary wolf, with ordinary siblings, and an ordinary life. He wasn't even born into a Druid wolf pack, he had no idea about magic, or gods, or witches or warlocks or wizards. But then he began having dreams, disturbing dreams where ethereal voices told him about his 'destiny'. They told him he was a familiar, and that someday, he would leave the wolf ways and teach people called witches, or warlocks how to master magic. He told nobody, not even his family about it, he was too scared of what might happen. Then it all changed when a massive thunderstorm shook the world. He was separated from the pack in the tempest, and wounded. He was lost and afraid until Aneira found him that day in the woods, he felt he had been saved. Not just from death, but from the loneliness he carried ever since the dreams began. That was the moment he became a true familiar, it was like an initiation ceremony. When Aneira did him that act of kindness, it created the bond between them that existed between all magic-users and familiars. From then on, he never doubted the voices, that said they were gods, and he did whatever was asked from him.

Last night, he had a vivid dream that showed him the city of Camelot. It led him down under the city into the tunnels laden with treasures, spoils of war, and books written in a dead language. Then he saw it, lying on a silk cushion on a stone pedestal, the Crystal Of Neahtid. In the crystal, he saw the face of Aneira looking back at him. The meaning was clear. Get the crystal, and bring it to Aneira, who was the heir.

He had no idea why the gods wanted Aneira to have the crystal now. Chances were, it would show Zekeil trying to find Ava and Kaia. But Cyril supposed he shouldn't be ungrateful. He knew how much they meant to Aneira, and he felt terrible for keeping the danger they were in from her. He had tried to find them, but it was useless to transport all over Albion without knowing where to look. He could only hope that Kaia was as good at hiding from Zekeil as she was at hiding from him.

Now, he was discreetly walking to the courtyard, where the entrance to the vaults would be. He knew that the Great Dragon, Kilgharrah had been imprisoned there, but Emrys had freed him. Kilgharrah had always been unique, he was far older than many dragons, and he was very wise, now, he was the last. Cyril couldn't blame him for losing it when he finally broke out of that cave, he himself might have done the same thing in that situation. But now wasn't the time to get sidetracked.

He knew people were staring at him, after all how often was it that wolves were about in the town? But so far none seemed too concerned, they were fooled by his act as a loyal little dog, and some didn't even look at him at all. Cyril was mostly pleased at this, but he couldn't help but be shocked that these peasants, who lived in _Camelot _of all places, were so nonchalant that a wolf was in the city. He hoped that they were more observant when a real threat came to call.

Now in the courtyard, he spotted the entrance to the vaults, as he saw in the dream, and he stealthily drifted away from thee crowd to the gate. With no one watching, he magically unlocked it with a flash of his eyes, and went inside. There weren't even guards here! Cyril was beginning to think these people had no self-preservation at all. What was the point in-? _Oh... _

_There _were the guards. And they had spotted him. Great. The two came at him like a drunk bear wearing a suit of wind chimes, by the gods these people were dull! Cyril simply tripped them up with some fancy evasive tactics, leaving them lying on top of each other, out cold. Luckily the crystal was right there in front of him, behind another gate, which Cyril decided to blow up rather than simply unlock. How could they expect to defend their magical artifacts against magic-users if they used flimsy steel and dumb guards as a defense? This would put them on their toes, at least.

When he saw the crystal, he couldn't help but take in the sight. Even just lying there, doing nothing, it looked elegant, regal, _magical. _He walked up to it and dipped his head reverently, wondering of Neahtid had seen this gesture when she gazed into the crystal for months on end over a thousand years ago. Then he grabbed it in his mouth and fled the scene as fast as he could, jumping over the still-knocked-out guards. If he was careful, he could probably exit the city the same way he'd come out, if the people didn't pay attention to a silver wolf walking the streets why would they care about a silver wolf with a crystal in its mouth? It turned out that Cyril was right. He made it out of the city without a hitch. True, he _did _end up needing to flee a few knights who were not as daft as the guards, and he did end up needing to transport himself away to escape them, but still.

As he landed in Aneira's hideout, he concluded that Camelot's security system was the stupidest in the whole history of Albion.

"Cyril!" she shouted. She was wearing trousers now, which Cyril approved. Dresses were entirely impractical. She jumped off the bench by the fire and gave him a hug like she was a little girl, Cyril's tail wagged in spite of the fact he was too grown up to enjoy such things anymore.

"Its good to see you, how are things?" Her smile faltered when she saw the crystal in his mouth, and stared at it, surprised.

_"It is what you think it is." _Cyril said.

"But how? How did you get it here? What have you been doing, Cyril?"  
><em>"It was a task. It is time for you to inherit your ancestor's gifts, to become an Oracle." <em>He set the crystal in front of her, and she looked at it uncomprehendingly.

_"Go on, then. Pick it up!" _Cyril urged.

"Cyril, I can't! This is the Crystal Of Neahtid! Not Aneira, Neahtid. Who knows what will happen?"

_"I do. You'll See. You'll See more than you ever have before, and you'll be an Oracle! Just as you're supposed to be. Aneira," _He placed his paw on her knee. _"Believe me, I know the risks. But so do the gods. I know there is a purpose for this, right now, this moment, is meant for something. You, are meant to do this. Don't doubt yourself. Neahtid's blood runs in your veins, you should have no trouble being able to master it, given time. And you have that. Now, look. See." _

Aneira looked at him, there was still uncertainty in her eyes, but she knew that when Cyril spoke to her like that, so sure, that he knew what he was talking about. She reached out and held the crystal with both hands, holding it up to her eyes, which glowed like fire the moment she had contact with it.

It was when she began to shake, when her eyes leaked tears that Cyril's confidence wavered.

_"Aneira...?" _

She didn't answer. Whatever she was seeing was blocking everything else from her mind, and it didn't look like she was seeing a future birthday party either. The golden glow dimmed, and her eyes rolled up into her head before she fell back.

_"Aneira!" _Cyril cried. He sniffed at her throat, she was still alive, just asleep; fitfully. What on earth had she seen? Aneira had the heart of a lion, he knew it took something huge to make her faint just by looking at it. He dreaded to think...

"Aneira?"

Hunith sat up on her makeshift bed of animal fur, staring in horror at her friend on the floor. She quickly ran over and knelt beside her.

"What happened? Cyril? Tell me what happened!"

_"She fainted." _Cyril said, almost in shock himself. _"She saw something in the crystal. It caused her to faint." _

"The crystal? What crystal?" Hers eyes fell on the giant crystal lying right next to Aneira, and they widened.

_"It's called the Crystal Of Neahtid." _Cyril told her. Hunith frowned. _"What is the matter? You've heard of it before?" _

"I... think I might have... heard it from Merlin." She said slowly, deep in thought.

Cyril thought about that. It was more than possible that Emrys came across the crystal before, it was in his city after all, and the security certainly would be no problem for him.

Hunith sighed. "I do miss him..."

Cyril tried not to roll his eyes. Typical that the one in the dress would get sidetracked so easily. It was in the nature of mothers...

_"Merlin is fine, Hunith. When this is over, you can see him again." _He tried to be as empathetic as possible.

"I know, Merlin is strong. I just wish I could spend more time with him. I know all children have to grow up and leave the nest, but..." Oh no, this was turning into an emotional rant.

_"No offense, ma'am," _he interrupted, so much for empathy, _"But could we focus on the issue at hand, please?" _

"Oh, yes! I'm sorry. I'm sorry I just got sidetracked and-"

_"I know." _Cyril tried not to glare at her. _Females... _Hunith looked a bit hurt, but she moved Aneira to the nearest bed, being careful not to hit her head on any of the tables or stools around the cave. Cyril had never been good at communicating with people. Feelings were not something he had ever devoted much time into studying, only when they interfered with the magic his person was using did he ever bother with the art. Except when it came to Aneira, his connection with her was stronger than any he had ever had with the others. There had been Sarah, Matthew, and Greggory; though all of them were nice people and considered friends, none could ever match Aneira.

Cyril shook himself. Now who was getting sidetracked? He looked at Aneira, looking as though she was having the worst nightmare of her life. Sweat formed a thin sheet over her brow, and she kept moaning and turning in her sleep. There was nothing to do but wait until she woke up, and try to comfort her then.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

><p><strong>Arthur<strong>

Arthur was pacing.

It as late into the night, and it was going to get later, much later before he could finally get some sleep. Guinevere was fast asleep, having not even noticed her husband's absence from the bed, in fact she seemed to be taking pleasure in spreading herself out to get comfortable. Arthur had smiled at this, he didn't want anyone to console him now anyway. He needed to work off the steam he'd built up since he heard.

The Crystal Of Neahtid had been stolen.

If this wasn't worry enough, it had been a _wolf _that stole it! _A wolf! _It was unbelievable! But he had nine witnesses, including the guards that were knocked out, the three knights that had pursued it when they saw it by chance in the courtyard, and five others that had answered the warning bell. Of course, that wasn't the strangest thing, no no, not only was it a wolf that stole the crystal, but according to several other witnesses, it had strolled through the Lower Town to get there! And no one thought anything of it! A wolf, in Camelot, and _no one _thought it a cause for suspicion? Forget suspicion. It should have been a cause for panic! But no. The strangeness didn't stop there! Of _course _the wolf had magic! It blasted through the gate to the crystal, leaving the blacksmiths a very hard job of fixing it all again.

If Arthur hadn't grown up in Camelot, if he didn't know how ridiculously... _ridiculous _the world could really get sometimes... he would never have believed something like this had happened. But it did. And it was bad news for everyone.

The only people Arthur knew would want to steal the crystal were sorcerers, they were the only ones who could benefit from it. Now it appeared they got their most powerful weapon against Camelot, and Arthur could do nothing about it.

Sure, he could send a hundred search parties all over the kingdom. Sure, he could double security all over the city. Sure, he could do anything he wanted within reason, but it wouldn't do any good.

Arthur had confided in Gaius in his chambers about the nature of the thievery, and he explained that only a very powerful sorcerer could have done it. He suspected that either the sorcerer had disguised himself as a wolf, or had enchanted it to steal the crystal. Such a sorcerer would be very hard to catch, much more overcome. Arthur asked him if it could have been Morgana, but Gaius seemed to think that this level of magic surpassed Morgana's abilities.

_"When Morgana fled, her magic was weak, if not nonexistent. If she survived, the amount of power required to heal her wounds and transport away from Camelot would have drained her immensely. She could not have recovered in such a short amount of time, and besides; transformation, or even controlling an animal's mind is beyond what she could know. If that is the case, then we are dealing with someone not only powerful, but who has studied magic long enough to know the very heart of the Old Religion." _

_The heart of the Old Religion... _But what did that mean? The Old Religion was magic, which was evil, pure evil. That meant the sorcerer knew the heart of pure evil. He almost shuddered at the thought. How could they defeat someone like that? Initially, he thought all sorcerers were like that, but apparently this one was much worse. If all the previous ones he'd faced were weak in comparison, what should he prepare for when he met this one? Questions, questions, questions...

He'd discussed this with Merlin as well, he asked him if he knew what exactly the crystal could do. Merlin told him that he had studied it in one of Gaius' books not long after it was stolen the first time.

_"The Crystal Of Neahtid is like a Seeing Stone. It shows you visions of the past, present and future."_

_ "How could that be so valuable as a weapon?" Arthur had asked. Funny he didn't think to ask about it before._

_ Merlin had looked at him solemnly. "Knowledge is very powerful, Arthur. Just think if an enemy of Camelot could listen in on all of our important meetings whenever they wanted to. Or if they could see exactly what our next move would be before we do it, or if they could see all the things that happened in the past that are supposed to be kept secret." _

That had almost worked like a slap in the face. He couldn't imagine a good outcome if all the secrets of Camelot were revealed to a vengeful sorcerer. But he still couldn't do anything useful.

Nevertheless, Arthur still had to do something, to show the council he was doing all he could to protect the kingdom, but that was all it was, a show.

His suspicions had drifted to that Raven girl, who he knew was a thief by trade from Merlin. But Merlin, surprisingly, defended her immediately.

_"I've already looked into Raven, and she doesn't want any harm done to Camelot. All she cares about is the gold."_

_ "But couldn't she sell that crystal for a fair amount of gold?" Arthur had said. To which Merlin didn't reply. _

But when Arthur asked her about it, he was left feeling both unnerved yet convinced that she hadn't anything to do with it. If she hadn't been locked up in Gaius' chambers with broken ribs, Arthur wouldn't have gotten to her at all, a fact that Raven was obviously aware and annoyed of. She had no respect for him at all it seemed, both accusing him of being bitter about being beat by her and of jumping to stereotypical conclusions in one sentence. But according to Gaius, she wasn't old enough to know enough about magic to pull it off. When Gaius said this Arthur noticed she threw him a look that Arthur couldn't place. It almost looked like jealousy, or maybe regret.

Something else she said made Arthur curious as well as confused.

_"I've a question to ask _you, _Your Majesty. How are you so sure it wasn't a very clever wolf working all on his own?"_

She said this with a mysterious twinkle in her eyes, like she knew something he didn't. But Arthur was too preoccupied to think of it as any more than a remark intended to annoy him, which it did.

Still no more enlightened than he had been before, Arthur climbed back into bed with his wife. At least tomorrow he could distract himself from Camelot's potential downfall with the tournament. If he was honest, he was a bit nervous about fighting Raven again. Usually his confidence would be boosted knowing that she had broken ribs, but seeing her take down that bear man with the injury he was not so sure of himself. Anyways, he didn't really care about the tournament anymore, what use did he have for a thousand pieces of gold? It wasn't like he was drowning in poverty.

Yawning, he allowed sleep to take him into its open arms.

* * *

><p><strong>Merlin<strong>

Merlin was sleeping.

It was truly amazing, seeing as there were over fifty people screaming, pounding on wood, waving flags, and jumping in the stands all around him. But there he was... _sleeping. _And snoring! He had stayed up late last night trying to figure out what to do about the Crystal of Neahtid, talking with Arthur, Gaius, and Raven about the recent theft.

He had to admit, he was scared. The Crystal Of Neahtid in the enemy's hands was the last thing he needed right now. He wished he could just have a break once in a while from all the attacks, he had enough to deal with already.

Someone shook his shoulder roughly, waking him up. He quickly closed his mouth and opened his eyes, face reddening when Gwen's disapproving, yet smiling face appeared. He smiled back at her, and she rolled her eyes. They were both sitting in the "noble" section of the stands where the royals, council members, and wealthy were. He wondered how many people had seen him sleeping, and he spotted a group of girls giggling and glancing at him. Well, at least he didn't drool... Oh, _dammit... _

"People of Camelot." Gwen' voice silenced the roar, with its regal tone. The new queen had some skeptical because of her origins. But she had quickly proven herself to be more than capable of the job, surprising all with her ability to lead and know exactly what the people needed. Gaius said that he reminded him of Queen Igraine sometimes with her kindness.

"Today, is the third and last day of the tournament. Today, we will see who triumphs, and takes the prize of one thousand gold coins."

Merlin looked down at the arena. Arthur and Raven were standing with their drawn, facing the queen and awaiting her consent to fight. He was very impressed by Raven, if he hadn't seen the purple and blue splotches covering her side he never would have known she was injured at all right now. She stood there with all the fire and grace of an enraged phoenix. Arthur did not look so impressive in comparison. His posture was slumped, and Merlin knew if he took off his helmet he would see dark pockets under his eyes. It had been a late night for both of them.

Queen Guinevere looked reluctant to give the order, she was worried for Arthur, and she never did like violence. But her duty as queen required her to be the host, and Merlin was grateful that he didn't have to be. He could think of a million possible ways to humiliate himself trying to make an announcement in front of all these people.

"Let the final contest begin!" she said.

As always, Raven was the first to attack.

Merlin was wide awake now, almost hypnotized by the grace with which she fought. He tried to get a glimpse of the blades, but they were always a blur. He thought he saw a shimmer of gold pass over them once, but he couldn't affirm it as any more than a trick of the light. He could sense something was weird about those blades, his magic reacted to it, like when a mouse sniffs the air curiously after smelling the aroma of cheese.

Arthur obviously wasn't in the game, he was too concerned about the crystal, and Raven was using this to her advantage.

Arthur's shield lay on the sand, badly scratched, had Merlin still been his manservant he would be groaning about having to polish it later. He took off his helmet, and gripped Excalibur, shining valiantly, all the stronger, eyes tightening on Raven. It seemed he was not willing to give up completely.

He swung his sword at her left side, feinted and jabbed at her right with the hilt. Raven's gasp was audible for the crowd, he must have hit her broken ribs. Merlin was shocked, Arthur would _never _do that on purpose... But he had seen Raven's wound yesterday hadn't he? But Merlin could tell by Arthur's face that he was already regretting his actions, he probably forgot about it in his tiredness. Raven did not notice, and she did _not _appreciate it.

She fought him with passionate anger now. She knocked his legs out from under him, making to plant her blades under his chin.

Arthur swung his sword to counter the blades, and he rolled away, landing back on his feet.

Raven yelled and took a wild swipe at his head, and he leaned back, ducking the blades.

He planted his feet and held his sword with both hands, cheeks puffed out, (Merlin had laughed the first time he saw this, and when he pointed it out to Arthur he received a whack in the head) and he made an experienced jab, tripping her up.

Raven struggled to get up before the next second where Arthur would have her, but her wound stopped her.

Excalibur' tip hovered over her chest, while Raven glared menacingly back at it. The crowd waited with bated breath, then broke into a roar louder than ever before as Arthur turned and held up Excalibur in victory.

Merlin clapped along with the rest, but he couldn't help but not be as sincere as usual. Raven stood off the side, shaking her head looking as though she wanted to run him through. She turned and ran out of the arena, with a murderous look in her eye.

Merlin stared after her, wondering if her need for the money could make her really kill the king after all.

**Dun dun duuuuuun! So yeah, we know that Kaia has a sort of a dark side when she's protecting her family. And we know she could really care less about Camelot, she just doesn't feel like wasting her time trying to sabatoge it when she's got so much on her plate. Obviously killing the king is too much trouble for her right now. But who knows what she'll do now that Arthur is in the way of getting Ava back. Little does she know... **

**Meanwhile, what did Aneira see in that crystal that made her faint? Perhaps forewarning something that is to come... but no spoilers! You'll have to wait for the next chappy to find out. **

**If you have any ideas, or qualms, PM me or review. I've pretty much got this story figured out, but if you have some juicy plotlines or twists you'd like to see feel free to let me know. **


	8. Announcement

Yeah... Sorry this isn't an update, but it is more than me profusely apologizing for seemingly abandoning this fic. Which I do.

Basically, I published this story in the wild brainstorming phase rather than the finished phase. It was my second attempt at a fic on here and it turned out not to be so good as my brain is envisioning it. So I'm editing.

Anyways, I'm going to be making some major changes to the story. So that it's less like Zelda and Kane Chronicles and more like Merlin.

The elements I'm going to change are

Zekeil will not be a god anymore. He'll just be a bad guy who uses dark magic.

Mentioning of Wiccans will be obliterated. Even though Merlin does have some similarities to Wiccan traditions like Samhaim and stuff it's more based on druid and I think Celtic paganism. Either way Wicca was not invented until the 1900s or something so it has no business in this fic.

The pentacle Zekeil uses will be considered a dark magic symbol now. Just for purposes of simplicity. But I would like to point out that the pentacle, really ISN"T a symbol of the devil. If you look it up, it's actually supposed to be a good symbol in Wicca.

The "Druid" wolves will have a different name and origin. And they may disappear completely since I'm not sure they exactly have a sturdy place in this fic.

I may make some other nitpicky changes for accuracy like changing Gedref to Nemeth since according to MerlinWiki Nemeth is the name of the kingdom.

I sincerely apologize for any inconvenience, but I want this fic to live up to my standards and right now it's not doing that. The only thing I haven't decided is if I'm deleting this story and replacing it or if I'm just replacing the chapters.

One more thing, if there are any other changes you want to point out for me please speak up because I want this to be the best it can be.

I'll be doing this while also working on Lycanthrope so that may be updated sooner than this.

I know I have some serious commitment issues but I'm working on it.

**Chow!**


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